


Our Flaws Are Aligned

by phantasizeit



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety, Break Up, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Getting Back Together, Light Angst, M/M, Phandom Big Bang, Phandom Big Bang 2018, Sexual Content, dan and phil are mean to each other for 33k straight, until they get their heads out of their asses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-26 05:50:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 33,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16675717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantasizeit/pseuds/phantasizeit
Summary: Dan and Phil are YouTubers, but they hate each other. Phil is reminded of this when he’s forced to interact with him at the Spain Creator’s Summit. Their situation isn’t helped by their complicated past when their firecracker relationship crashed and burned. When Stop, Speak, Support contacts Phil to be a headlining speaker in their tour across schools in the UK, he is more than excited, until he finds out he’ll working next to his YouTube enemy. Phil doesn’t expect their time planning the tour together to rekindle old feelings he thought he’d long since buried.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is! My 2018 Phandom Big Bang fic. During the process of writing this thing, I left my job, got a new job, moved out of my old apartment into a new one, and took care of my sister who was in and out of the hospital. PHEW. I am so incredibly happy that I made it happen through it all!! HUGE thank you to my artist, AM ([@virgoditl on twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/virgoditl/status/1031084619720998913) and [vimtagerecord](https://vimtagerecord.tumblr.com/) on tumblr). AM, Thank you for sticking with me through thick and thin, putting up with me, AND creating some gorgeous art for this fic. There is something so magical about seeing it all come alive on the screen. Please check out the incredible art [here](https://vimtagerecord.tumblr.com/post/180287229853/part-1-of-my-drawings-for-myself-and-phantasizeit) and [here!](https://vimtagerecord.tumblr.com/post/180287247638/part-2-of-my-drawings-for-myself-and-phantasizeit) (and at the end of each chapter. ELEVEN PIECES OF ART, CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?????)
> 
> Without further ado:

Phil fixes a tiny fringe gap splayed across his forehead and squints at his laptop screen, “‘ _Tell us about the glitter fiasco!’_ ” Phil laughs, “Oh yeah, ok, so.” The comment stands out in the otherwise largely nonsensical flood rushing down the YouNow screen, and Phil always has to say a little thank you in his head for viewers who actually give him something to go off of during live streams. Not that he hasn’t spent entire streams successfully talking about topics like vegetables and rock-paper-scissors, but it doesn’t hurt to have some actual content. “If you haven’t already seen the video up on AmazingPhil, go give it a little watch. So a couple weeks ago, I made slime. I know, don’t judge me. Like I said in the video, you’re not my real parents.”

_‘I am your parent. Go to your room.’_

_‘You’re the daddy, daddy.’_

“So, I made some slime. Fluffy slime because I reckon that’s the best slime. Dumped probably way too much glitter in there,” Phil mimes the act with over exaggerated hand motions. “And because I’m the clumsiest person in the world, I got it all over my bed sheets. Aaron says, ‘ _Oh no, Phil.’_ But wait, it gets worse.” Phil smiles sheepishly. “I stuffed my sheets in the washer, but didn’t really think about how the glitter would just stick to the washer…”

_‘Glitter clothes!’_

_‘Asdhklj phil ur so dumb’_

_‘Rly philip?’_

“Everyone’s yelling at me!” Phil hides his face behind in hands, only to peek through them seconds later. “Look, my roommate, Thomas— you all know Thomas— he already yelled at me enough when he ended up at work in a glittery button-down. And I will be punished for the next two months with glitter attacking my own clothes, while I just hope that it’s being slowly absorbed by the atmosphere. _‘That’s not how science works.’_ All right, Ally, I didn’t know there was a _glitter scientist_ watching my live stream. But, like, seriously where does glitter go? Will it be in my washer forever?”

Phil continues his stream, trying to be a present as possible for his viewers. Trying not to think about how much he’s looking forward to logging off, eating some takeaway, and watching the new season of American Horror Story.

He also has a flight to book to Spain tonight for the YouTube Creator Summit next week. Thankfully he doesn’t have any Q&A’s to prepare himself for or presentations he has to plan. He’s just got to show up and be a YouTuber. Although, there will be cameras everywhere, which always requires a little mental preparation on his part.

Thirty minutes later, there’s a natural lull and he’s largely run out of topics to talk about. Phil suppresses a sigh and hides the awkward pause in his one-sided conversation in a glass of Ribena. He loves his audience and he loves live streaming, but it’s also stressful for someone with social anxiety. He hates awkward pauses, which is why he started writing down topics for himself on a pad of paper. He never knows what someone is going to say or what his audience will latch on and spam the chat with.

Phil swallows and sets the glass down. He opens his mouth to talk about his growing excitement for autumn, when his eyes alight on a single comment that makes his mouth go dry and his heart beat faster.

_‘Dan Howell dissed your slime video in his live show phil did you see?’_

His eyes catch on the comment, before it’s gone just as quickly as it appeared. He doesn’t respond to it, because it’s been years since he has publicly acknowledged Daniel Howell. Phil’s not the type of person to engage in YouTube drama with his audience, or with anyone really.

He tries to do what he always does with such uncomfortable topics that he wants nothing to do with, and just ignore it.

But the comment distracts him for the rest of the live show, echoing in his head until is feels like the only thing in his mind is _Dan Howell Dan Howell Dan Howell._ It’s been a really long time since he’s thought about the guy.

So Dan’s gone ahead and said something about Phil’s new video. What did he say? Why did he say anything about Phil? How long did he talk about it? Was it a quick comment, or a classic Dan rant?

Phil hopes he doesn’t look as distracted as he feels.

When Phil finally gives a little wave to the screen and clicks to end the show (struggling to find the correct button as usual), he can’t even be excited that he can turn his brain off and power down the “AmazingPhil” part of him. Against his better judgement, Phil exits out of YouNow and finds his way to Daniel Howell’s second channel, which is interestingly enough still called danisnotinteresting, despite the YouTuber’s recent rebrand from the apparently “cringey” danisnotonfire. Phil is about to click on Dan’s most recent liveshow, enticingly titled “Sipping the Tea with Mr. D,” when he stops himself.

He should _not_ be doing this. Any interaction Phil has had with Dan is a thing of the past, and there’s a reason for that. Phil has carefully cultivated his online and physical avoidance of Dan.

Phil exits out of the webpage like it has burned him. He leaves his laptop on the end table in the live show nook he has set up and flees the room. American Horror Story will clear his brain.

It doesn’t. Phil gets through two episodes, knowing he’ll need to watch them again to understand the plot of the season. He wishes Thomas was home so he could distract Phil with conversation, even if it’s a boring conversation about Tom’s recent adventures with being a financial adviser in London.

Dan Howell has dissed his slime video. It’s not super surprising; Dan is well known in the YouTube community for putting his foot in his mouth and being a little too opinionated. Or maybe that’s just Phil’s biased opinion of Dan. Either way, Dan has said his fair share about Phil— mostly with ambiguous subtweets over-analyzed by their largely overlapping audience— without ever being too obvious about their history. Not that their audiences aren’t aware of their history, even if it’s all well evidenced speculation to them.

But Dan hasn’t mentioned Phil in a video in a _very_ long time. Even a live show. It’s driving Phil nuts.

Phil makes himself popcorn and turns the volume up on his television, as if he can drown out his thoughts.

Did Dan just stumble on the AmazingPhil channel? Did it autoplay and he was just too lazy to click away from it? Or does Dan still watch Phil’s videos, like Phil sometimes finds himself always watching Dan’s?

Phil physically shakes his head, trying to clear his mind. The front door to Phil’s shared flat opens and Thomas bursts through, his suit jacket slung over his broad shoulder. Phil sighs with relief; maybe his roommate will provide some much needed distraction.

“Evening, Philly!” Thomas drops his briefcase to their floor with a satisfying _thunk_ and rounds the side of the sofa to collapse on the worn cushions. “Shit, that’s good,” he groans, loosening the green tie that Phil knows is his favorite because it makes his hazel eyes more green. _Ladies love green eyes, Philly._ Tom undoes the top three buttons of his shirt and drops his head against the back of the sofa.

“Hey.” Phil pauses the TV. “You eat?”

Thomas grunts and Phil assumes it’s an affirmative grunt. Tom confirms this assumption by adding: “Went out for fish and chips and a pint with some mates from the office.”

Phil knocks his shoulder against Tom’s, “That sentence is disgustingly British and you should be ashamed.”

“Not my fault you’re a sad excuse of a British person. You and your coffee and sweet breakfast,” Tom grins and shoves back against Phil with ten times the strength, ignoring Phil’s yelp.

“Ow, I just don’t like tea or English breakfasts. Stop bullying me; you know I bruise like a banana. Hoping to _not_ look like I fell down some stairs when I go to Spain next week, thanks very much.”

Thomas hums, then pushes himself off the sofa again. “Forgot you were going to Spain. Any plans to hook up with any—” he steps between Phil’s legs and shimmies his hips,  “— _mujeres o hombres españoles_?”

“Go away,” Phil rolls his eyes and threatens Tom with pointed jab of his knee toward his roommate's groin area. Tom jumps back away from Phil’s knee, stumbling over Phil’s long leg in the process. Tom is a little bit vertically challenged compared to Phil. Phil would be lying if he said he didn’t sometimes take advantage of that. “It’s for business,” Phil adds.

Shaking his head, Tom heads for the kitchen and takes a bottle of beer from the fridge. He yells out to Phil: “Yeah, like you’ve never gotten any on your YouTube trips. Someone’s grumpy and needs to get shagged.”

Phil waits for Tom to return to the living room and neck half the beer in a gulp before answering. “Yeah, maybe I’m a little grumpy.” Phil pauses, wondering if he should even bring it up. Sure, Thomas has been around since uni, and was very much present for everything that went down with Dan. Phil briefly remembers Tom holding Phil while he cried about Dan. Promising to take Dan’s place as his flatmate. But, Phil should be over his whole fling with Dan by now. Phil swallows, figuring if he can’t tell Tom, he can’t tell anyone. “Apparently _Daniel Howell_ talked about my recent video during his live show.”

Tom pauses and his mouth stretches into a stiff, thin line and he sets the beer down on their coffee table. “Oh.” He wipes beer off his mouth. “Bad things?”

Phil shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “I haven’t seen, just heard. Although they said he dissed it, so. I’m guessing it’s not a glowing review.”

“Does it bother you?”

“What?”

Tom sits down next to Phil again and rests an elbow on the armrest. Leave it to Tom to immediately see through Phil’s pseudo-blase attitude. What else would Phil expect from someone he’s been best friends with since the beginning of his master’s program? “Does it bother you that Dan is talking shit?”

Phil pulls the bottoms of his shorts down over his knees and plays with the hem. He shrugs again. “I just want to know why. Why now? Why six years later or whatever?”

“He’s talked about you before, though.”

“Not in a video. Just vague tweets or stuff to our mutual friends. I dunno, I’m just being stupid. But I really want to know what he said. I don’t even know why I care. He’s condescending and stuck-up, and thinks YouTube is only for videos with fake-deep morals at the end. That’s not how I run my channel, so obviously he would have something to say about that.” Phil breathes out harshly, then lets out a sharp, cutting laugh. “Probably something about how meaningless a slime video is; I don’t even have to watch his live stream to know that he’s said it was _cringe_ or something.”

Thomas pats Phil on the knee. “Just watch it. You’ll go crazy otherwise.” Tom, ever the level-headed one, suggests. Tom can get rowdy with his lads, but he’ll always be a much-needed voice of reason for Phil’s anxiety-addled brain. Tom grins and continues, “But, who cares what Dan has to say about you? He’s a twat who spends too much of his life regretting the shit that he _does_ do. You’re unapologetically _you_. Hey, that rhymed.”

Phil has to smile at that.

The smile doesn’t linger. It’s not 100% true; not anymore. There is a lot that he does because he knows it will make him money. That it’s what his YouTube audience wants to see, or what the algorithm will promote. His online persona is an exaggerated version of a piece of him, yes. But it’s not 100% him. Not by a long shot.

Even so, Phil gets ideas for YouTube videos and makes them. His content doesn’t have to be earth-shattering and he isn’t obsessed with _making a mark on the world_. Videos can be silly, fun. Tom’s right in that respect.

“Yeah. I’ll watch it. You’re right— otherwise I’ll go mental. But, also, forget him. He’s got his style; I’ve got mine.”

“There ya go. And, anyway, you’re going to Spain next week. Now is not the time to worry about what Dan Howell has said about your slime video. Anyway, what I have to say about your slime video is more important, because, damn it, Phil! This shirt _still_ has purple glitter all over it, despite me putting it through the wash again.”

Tom slings an arm over Phil then and squeezes him roughly. It makes him forget about Dan for a little bit.

***

That seems to last until Phil is in his bed. The impractical wicker bed frame complains every time he moves. And he moves a lot, tossing and turning and trying to get Dan Howell out of his head.

It’s dumb, because it’s been years since his relationship with Dan. Throughout the years, Phil has seen the other YouTuber some and heard about him plenty.

Phil’s head spins with a conflicting images of Dan in his head; the Dan of now versus the Dan of his past. When they first started skyping back in 2009, Dan was vulnerable, fearful. He was brash, but it always seemed like a defense mechanism. Dan brought out Phil’s every instinct to protect and reassure.

Fat lot of good that did him.

There’s still a bit of Phil that wishes things had gone differently with Dan, and maybe that’s the part of Phil that’s so drawn to hear what Dan is saying about him these days. Except, Phil already knows it’s nothing positive.

Phil lets out a frustrated groan and he sits up in bed.

Darkness has enveloped Phil’s room and it's quiet, but for the occasional creak of a water pipe. Phil has his phone shoved on the far side of his bedside table, but it calls to him. It would be so easy to open up Dan’s video on his YouTube app and passively listen to it, or find someone in the comments who has probably time-stamped the drama.

Finally, Phil gives up. He feels a little bit of relief, like he’s scratching an elusive itch. He finds the video quickly and just puts it on, lays down, and closes his eyes against the image of Dan Howell on the screen. He doesn’t need to see those brown eyes.

The first six minutes are boring. Dan talks about moving apartments, his liveshow background, a TomSka sketch he’s been in, and a lot of other little stories that don’t really interest Phil, but that he knows audiences love. At least Phil’s audience loves them.

Objectively, Dan has a calming voice and he’s mostly kind to his commenters. So listening to him isn’t all that unpleasant. But there are still moments that make Phil roll his eyes; Dan just has a way with being... passively dismissive.

“...Someone that I spoke to in the video did not want to be in the video and Tinder decided it should not be there out of respect for the person, which is totally fair enough.” As Dan tells this particular story, Phil can’t help but feel a little bit bad for Dan. Phil knows that it isn’t fun to work hard on a video, only for a sponsor to request to take it down. It’s disheartening. “Can we have a moment of silence for ‘Would You Date the Real Dan?’” It was a pretty funny video, too, if Phil is being honest with himself.

After a split second pause, Dan continues. “Now there’s an even bigger gap in my channel, since it looks like I didn’t put a video out this month. I mean, I could do what other YouTubers do and just do an eBay mystery unboxing or make slime.” Any sympathy Phil feels for Dan is immediately lost. “Could you imagine me stooping that low?” Dan in the video laughs sardonically. “‘ _Oooh, throwing shade.’_ Is it shade, Sara? Sure. Sipping the tea with Mr. D.”

Phil’s heard enough. He forcefully turns off his phone and tosses it back onto his bedside table with a clatter. It’s so clear that it’s Phil who Dan is “throwing shade” at, as Phil put out both of those videos within the last couple months.

Condescending, cynical, posh Daniel Howell. Phil doesn’t know why he even let Dan worm his way into Phil’s brain. Phil squeezes his eyes shut, willing sleep to take him to a dreamless land where no Daniel Howells will be there to snark at him like he wasn’t Phil’s biggest fan eight years ago. Unfortunately, it takes another hour for such sleep to come.


	2. Chapter 2

Only a couple days after Phil’s moment of weakness, he has pushed Dan Howell out his brain once more and is flying to Spain.

On the plane, Phil is crammed in between an old woman and a middle-aged man with a cold. Phil has downloaded an eBook onto his iPad and is studiously ignoring the both of them. Phil can’t say if he’s particularly looking forward to being in Spain. Of course, there’s a piece of him that is excited to travel and hang out with some like-minded people for a couple of days.

There’s another part of him that always dreads the days where vlog cameras follow him like the all-seeing eye and his every move is tracked via Twitter and Instagram stories. YouTubers can be exhausting to be around, too. There’s always empty promises of collabs and gossip about who is having sex with who. Because probably the worst kept secret of YouTube is that everyone is banging each other.

And then, there will be plenty of YouTubers around that Phil doesn’t like and wants nothing to do with. He always has to work to avoid such creators, which is never an easy feat at such an event.

It’s all a little bit exhausting for an introvert like Phil who just sticks to making videos for his channel, skip the gossip and drama.

Phil’s not even thinking about how Dan is definitely going to be invited. Phil’s not thinking about their many mutual friends or how it will be pretty much impossible _not_ to run into the man. Phil’s not thinking about what he could say if he happened to run into Dan. _He’s not._

When Phil arrives at the event and checks in at the front desk at the hotel that YouTube has booked, he finds out he can have a relatively quiet evening where no presentations or events have been planned. He can unpack, settle down, and scope out the hotel, until the catered dinner that night. He can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that he doesn’t have to be completely “on” until tomorrow.

His room is beautiful. Everything is crisp and white. The duvet is turned down just so and the bathroom is fully stocked with sweet smelling soaps, shampoos, and fluffy towels that look like they might even wrap around his long torso. Phil discovers his room has also been stocked with promotional swag that always gets him rather stupidly excited. He finds some leather sandals with the YouTube logo on them in his swag bag and immediately puts them on over his socks, snapping a pic for Twitter. The expected flood of replies that just say “what are thoooose?” make him smile.

After posting the photo, he almost immediately gets a text from Anthony Padilla. Phil opens the text to find a response picture of Anthony rocking his own pair of leather sandals.

Anthony: _Nice sandals. I paired mine with the exquisite hotel robe._

Phil: _Whatever you do, try not to think of all the hundreds of people who wore that hotel robe before you_

Anthony: _So many bodily fluids._

Phil sends Anthony a puking emoji, while he sits on the hotel bed and turns on the TV. He flips through Spanish channels.

Anthony: _Hey, you wanna hang out before dinner? There’s nothing going on till then._

Phil sighs. So much for his quiet night in, but he figures it would be rude to refuse Anthony. It’s not like he can claim jet lag, when his plane ride was only over a couple hours long.

Phil: _Sounds good._

Anthony: _Cool. A few others are meeting in my room in 15 min._

Phil sends an affirmation and Anthony replies with his hotel room number. Phil uses his remaining 15 minutes to make himself look and feel less gross from traveling. There’s something about spending any amount of time on a plane that makes Phil feels sweaty and grimy. Some time with his dry shampoo and deodorant seems to fix things enough to be able to have a casual hang out with some YouTubers.

Phil heads over to Anthony’s room. He hopes that the people that Anthony has invited over are pleasant. And if not, he hopes that Anthony has thought to provide alcohol.

Anthony answers the door after the third knock and greets Phil with a one-armed hug and a pleasant, “Hey, Phil!” Anthony is one of those creators that Phil genuinely likes. Anthony has been on the platform even longer than Phil. He’s down-to-earth. He’s had a lot of success, but also knows how to keep his head and not be a dick. He occasionally posts some questionable shit, and pretends to be gay for views more than Phil thinks is necessary, but it’s nothing next to some of the crap that goes on the platform nowadays.

“Hey,” Phil awkwardly squeezes Anthony back and peeks around him. “I’m the first here?”

Anthony lets go. “Yeah, you are. Not many people are coming over. Well, I don’t really know a lot of people around these parts.” Anthony sits on his bed. “I invited Caspar and Joe. And, uh, Dan Howell. You know Dan, right?”

Phil’s stomach clenches and he sits back on the stiff lounge chair facing Anthony’s TV. “Oh, uh, yeah. I know Dan. It’s been awhile since we’ve spoken,” Phil replies stiffly.

Anthony surfs the channels much like Phil had done in his own room. “That’s so surprising to me. You guys are a lot alike. Plus, you both live in London. How are you’re not closer friends?”

Phil shrugs and responds with a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat. “Is that a Spanish version of the X Factor?” Phil asks, trying to change the subject. Phil doesn’t think he sounds particularly convincing, but it works; Anthony pauses his channel surfing and lets a few minutes of the show play out.

Phil is sweating and his heart races. It seems like he’s not going to be able to avoid Dan very easily this trip. At least, not tonight. It doesn’t surprise that Anthony is ignorant of the tension between Dan and Phil. He’s American. He wasn’t paying attention when things went sour between the two, smaller British YouTubers. When videos and tweets got deleted. He was busy with Smosh for the better part of a decade.

But, damn, does Phil wish Anthony wasn’t so clueless.

Tense minutes go by where Phil tries to watch a “Factor X” rerun from 2007 and pretend he’s totally normal and not internally freaking out about what Dan Howell might say to his face or how Phil is supposed to act around Dan.

Eventually, there’s a knock at the door and it feels like Phil’s heart drops out of the bottom of his stomach. Oblivious to Phil’s inner turmoil, Anthony pushes himself off his bed and answers the door. He lets Caspar and Joe in and Phil finds himself exhaling with relief. Phil greets the guys with friendly hugs. They all settle down to watch TV, talk about how things are going with their lives and their channels, and engage in some friendly back-and-forth banter. Phil appreciates that none of them are shoving cameras in his face. Caspar takes a selfie with all of them, but doesn’t even end up posting it right away.

Still, Phil finds it hard to relax knowing that any minute, Dan will be showing up at Anthony’s door and genuinely reacting to Phil’s presence.

At some point, Anthony calls room service and orders some alcohol, which Phil appreciates a lot more than he can voice. A staff person delivers white rum, a fruity mixer, and several glasses and, still, there’s no Dan.

Anthony pours them all drinks. “Where the fuck is Dan?” Anthony voices to no one in particular.

“Fashionably late, as always.” Phil murmurs, immediately regretting his comment. Joe shoots him a quick look, but doesn’t question Phil. Phil takes a shaky sip of his drink, mouth twisting into a grimace when he tastes the generous ratio of rum. There was a time in his life when he would have called Dan’s inability to show up on time to things, “free-spirited.” Phil takes a longer pull from his drink. He was pretty pathetic for Daniel Howell.

Like he’s been conjured from Phil’s mind, a knock sounds on Anthony’s door. “Finally!” Anthony exclaims. He pulls open the door and greets Dan with a hug. Caspar and Joe get up to greet Dan, too. Everyone is cheerful and the hotel is filled with the sound of everyone slapping each other on the back good-naturedly. Phil stays seated.

But Phil can’t help but look. It’s probably been a healthy year since he’s seen Dan in person, and Phil has made sure that “in-person” means he saw Dan from across the room at VidCon or spotted Dan speaking to a group at a friend’s house party, and made a quick escape.

Phil wishes he could say that Dan doesn’t look good, but it’s just not true. Dan looks devastating and it’s annoying. He’s grown into his body; he isn’t the lanky teenager that Phil once fancied himself in love with. Dan’s grown taller and broader. He’s embraced his natural curls and they add an air of softness that Dan tempers with a black shirt and tight, ripped skinny jeans. Phil is distantly aware of Dan turning his way and offering a stilted greeting of, “Oh, hey.” Phil can’t meet his eyes; he doesn’t need to see those brown eyes. Doesn’t need to see what kind of look will be staring back at him. Phil offers a lame “Hey, Dan,” in return. The others _have_ to pick up on the tension.

Everyone settles back in. Anthony pours Dan a drink and apologizes for the lack of seating in his room. Phil watches Dan shrug and plant himself on the floor, leaning his back against the hotel bed. He tucks one of his legs up under his chin and Phil finds his chest tightening painfully at the rush of memories that sight elicits. Phil hasn’t seen Dan in a casual setting since— Phil stops that train of thought.

“—Yeah, I was asking Phil earlier why y’all don’t hang out that often. It feels like you would be a match made in YouTube heaven.” Phil snaps back into the present at the sound of his own name. He realizes what Anthony is saying and opens his mouth to respond with something vague and dismissive. But, at that moment, Dan turns his head to study Phil and their eyes meet.

Phil’s heart stutters in his chest. The familiar chestnut brown seems to laser straight through his skull. Phil can’t tell if the butterflies are nervousness or something else. Unbidden, Phil is attacked by the memory of those same eyes looking at him with soft adoration.

But now, there’s only hardness in Dan’s eyes. It snaps Phil out of his moment.

He mentally shakes himself and forces out a laugh. “Oh, I don’t think— uh, no, I’d say our content is pretty different.” Phil shrugs and avoids Dan’s piercing gaze.

“Different? Nahhh. Both of you tell funny stories with little skits in between. Your styles would jive together really well,” Anthony insists. Phil looks at Anthony and hopes that he’s giving Anthony a silent, pleading ‘please drop it.’

Dan blows air through his nose. “I dunno, mate. I agree with Phil. Our content couldn’t be more different.” Dan shrugs his broad shoulders. Phil can’t decide to feel shocked at hearing his name out of Dan’s mouth after so many years, or to feel pissed off because of course Dan is going to defend his artful content. Of course Dan is going to try to separate himself from Phil’s “YouTube poop.”

Phil almost opens his mouth to agree with Anthony, but stops himself at the last moment. Why does he want to be like Dan, anyway? Phil is happy doing his own thing.

Anthony blows a derisive raspberry in the air. “Yeah, ok, Dan. Your channels have paralleled since freaking 2010. You’re just blind. The two of you are missing out an hella collab opportunity.” Before Phil can change the subject and ask if Californians actually use the word “hella,” Anthony throws back the rest of his rum. “Anyway, I brought my Switch; let’s try to set it up to the hotel TV.”

Dan shoots Phil another look that Phil ignores. Phil prepares to spend the rest of his time in Anthony’s room doing the same awkward dance.

They all take turns playing Mario Kart in pairs. Phil plays Anthony and does terribly because he’s so hyper-aware of Dan’s presence. It makes Phil awkward, stiff, and distracted. Joe and Caspar go up against each other because, of course they would. The trash talking between the two of them is practically synchronous. Even Phil finds himself on the edge of his seat, watching Joe and Caspar pass each other in first over and over again. They all cheer when Joe’s character throws a perfectly aimed green shell at Caspar and slides across the finish line at the last minute. Joe stands up and let’s out a celebratory whoop of victory. Caspar collapses back on Anthony’s bed with a groan. Phil can’t help but laugh at the display.

“Holy shit. That was one for the books,” Anthony laughs.

Joe holds the controller out to Dan who takes the tiny thing in his large hand. Caspar holds his over his head. “Who’s playing Dan?”

Anthony slugs Phil’s shoulder. “Phil, mi amigo, you really fucked up the round with me. You _have_ to play against Dan. Redemption round?”

Immediately, the smile is wiped off Phil’s face. “Oh, ah.”

Dan seats himself on the hotel bed and smirks. “What is it, Lester? Scared I’ll wipe the floor with you with my Mario Kart skills? You probably should be tbh.” To an outsider, Dan’s words probably sound playful. Banterful. However, Phil can hear the all too real spite under the teasing.

Phil frowns, trying to tamp down the fiery temper that flares in his chest. “Fine. I’ll play again.” Joe, Caspar, and Anthony cheer and settle down to watch the game.

At first, Phil tells himself that he’s going to be the bigger man here. Phil has had a whole career of censoring himself; he can play calmly and ignore Dan. Except Dan knows exactly how to get under his skin and seems to very much enjoy it.

After playing for awhile and sending little jibes Phil’s way, Dan laughs a condescending laugh. “C’mon, Phil, I thought you’d at least give me a challenge. You’re in seventh, mate.”

Phil grits his teeth and grips the controller. He tries to tune Dan out as they make another lap around the track.

“All right, there ya go, buddy. Fifth. Maybe you’ll get past Peach at this rate.”

Phil bites his tongue.

“Oh, oh, oh!” Dan’s high-pitched teasing is like nails on a chalkboard in Phil’s skull.  “You’re so close to first!” Dan’s character executes a perfect drift around a corner, leaving Phil’s in the dust. “Close, but not close enough.”  

Phil grunts and rolls his eyes, trying to tell himself that this doesn’t matter. It’s just a stupid game of Mario Kart, and isn’t worth getting worked up over. This isn’t worth it. Dan isn’t worth it.

“You’ve really lost your touch in your old age. I remember when you actually put up a fight,” Dan comments when Phil stupidly spins on a banana peel. Phil’s control crumbles.

“Oh, will you shut the fuck up?” Phil seethes. Out of the corner of his eye, Phil can see Dan’s mouth drop open. Phil can feel those brown eyes on him. Phil takes advantage of Dan’s lapse in concentration to knock his character into a spin-out.

Dan notices. “Oi, oi, oi! Not fair!”

Phil rolls his eyes and leans into the movement of the controller, like it’s going to make his turns faster and smoother. “Right, the minute things don’t perfectly for you, it’s not fair,” Phil murmurs. He distantly notices that the rest of the room has gone silent.

“And the minute things go wrong for you, dominant Phil comes out. I mean, all that trapped anger has to go somewhere. Nothing’s changed, huh?” Dan is trying hard to sound light and breezy, but Phil knows better. Dan knocks his shoulder into Phil’s, jostling the controller in his hands. Phil’s fingers stumble across the buttons and swears he can see red as Dan’s character passes into first place in the final seconds. Dan jumps up and pumps his fist in the air with a loud, “Yes!”

Phil watches the colorful screen of characters driving themselves around the track in a victory lap and realizes how fast his heart is racing. He takes a deep breath in and exhales. He looks up to see Joe, Caspar, and Anthony watching him closely.

Phil forces himself to sound casual, “Ah, good game. I guess tonight isn’t my night for Mario Kart.” Phil pushes himself off the bed, excusing himself to the bathroom all in one breath.

In the bathroom, Phil relieves himself. While he washes his hands in the sink, he watches himself in the mirror. His fringe is piecey and messy with sweat. His cheeks are flushed bright red and there are ugly splotches on his neck. Phil splashes cold water on his skin and pulls in a few deep breaths. He does the best he can do with his hair. How is it that Dan still has this effect on him? How can one person be so talented at making Phil lose his cool, when Phil is so normally relaxed and easygoing?

Phil thinks of excuses he could use to skip out on the rest of his hangout, but, after that demonstration back there, it’s going to be pretty obvious to everyone else the reason why he’s skipping out.

Phil straightens his back, takes one more deep breath, and opens the door. He breathes a sigh of relief when he sees that Joe and Dan are playing what seems to be a match to decide an ultimate winner.

Phil settles pours himself a finger of rum and tosses it back. He sits back in the lounge chair. Anthony leans over from the desk chair he dragged from his hotel desk. “Hey, so, what that intense or was that just me?” Anthony whispers. He sounds genuinely concerned.

Phil keeps his voice low. “M’fine. Rum got me a little fired up.” Phil doesn’t want to get into it. He can’t get into it. Not when Anthony is just as close of a friend, if not closer, to Dan.

“Okaaay,” Anthony whispers back disbelievingly. “Maybe lay off the rum then, Philip.”

Phil spends the rest of his time in Anthony’s room just watching the rest of the guys interact. When dinner time comes around, Phil makes up a prior engagement with another friend and escapes from the group. Phil sends a frenzied text to another YouTuber friend, Hazel Hayes, asking if she wants to sit with him at dinner. He doesn’t even fully remember if she’s at this event, until she confirms with an acceptance of his invitation and several heart emojis.

Phil waves goodbye to the room, putting on a fake grin and hoping that he’s had his last interaction with Daniel Howell for the rest of his Spain trip.


	3. Chapter 3

Dinner is easy. Phil sits with Hazel and a few of her friends, and they talk about pop culture and recent videos and holidays they’re going on and other safe, friendly things. They share a bottle of sangria between all of them and Phil notices that his glass is always nicely topped off. They’re all smiles and laughs, and Phil finds himself relaxing and laughing along with them.

 

Phil keeps his eyes off the table across the hotel events room where Dan is sitting with Caspar, Joe, and Anthony. Phil pretends he doesn’t notice curious looks being shot from their table, and just shovels paella into his mouth and laughs at Hazel’s unusual brand of sarcasm. Before YouTube staff let them leave dinner, they point out little pieces of paper on their tables and ask everyone to select an activity to attend in the morning.

Phil briefly looks over the options, which include morning yoga, an outdoor run, and matcha tea making, before obviously selecting the activity which will allow him to sit and not exert a single muscle. He accepts the teasing from Hazel’s friends good-naturedly.

That night, when Phil, full of sangria, has retired to bed, shoved his hair into a relaxed quiff, and slipped into a pair of joggers, he texts Tom.

Phil: _played mariokart with dan tonight. still just as much of an ass as hes always been_

Tom: _ah, fuck, mate. Im sorry. Do you need to call? Talk about it?_

Phil squeezes his eyes shut before shaking his head as if to answer Tom’s text. He’s got to stop acting like his breakup with Dan is still fresh. Why is he so hung up over a guy he dated years ago?

Phil: _i think im ok. Just hoping i dont see him again_

Tom: _me too. Distract yourself, survive. Make it home into my loving arms, bby._

Phil: _hey tom_

Tom: ?

Phil: _bugger off_

Tom: <3

Phil throws down his phone and flops into bed. He tries to forget about the evening shitshow with Dan, but he turns it over and over in his mind instead.

The more he thinks about the situation in Anthony’s room, the more guilty and terrible he feels about it. He lost his cool so easily. A few snarky comments and Dan’s competitive attitude, and Phil was swearing and seeing red. Phil can hear himself telling Dan to shut the fuck up on repeat in his head. No matter how annoying Dan was, the simple fact remains that Phil was out of line.

Phil blows out a breath and digs his phone out of the fluffy depths of the hotel duvet and opens Twitter. Maybe he should send Dan a quick DM? Let him know Phil is sorry? Or, at the very least, he could suggest that they don’t play Mario Kart again and make a joke about it.

Twitter refreshes and an update from Dan himself is at the top of the page.

_you know who a person really is by how they play mario kart_

Phil clicks off his phone.

Who is he kidding? Dan doesn’t deserve an apology.

***

Phil is laying on a familiar bedspread, his laptop on his lap and a Skype call open on his screen. The screen is dark, and Phil is talking to no one in particular, about nothing in particular. Words are coming out of his mouth, but he doesn’t really even know what they are. He feels nervous and giddy. A little turned on. It’s a strange, but familiar, cocktail of emotions.

A pixelated figure appears on the screen and Phil’s heart starts thumping painfully in his chest. His skin feels a little sweaty and the words are coming out of his mouth quicker and clumsier. The pixels on the screen settle and clear and Phil can see Dan. He’s got long, straight hair that hangs artfully over his forehead. He tugs nervously on the low cut collar of his shirt and bites his lip. Phil’s eyes flick to the exposed collar bones that he wishes he could get his mouth on. Dan’s eyes are wide and his face is young.

Phil smiles and waves and Dan smiles back, ducking his head into his chest. Phil can feel his heart melt at the sight.

“Stop being so cute.” It’s the first thing that Phil has said that he actually understands.

Dan hides his face in his hands.

“I said stop, not try harder!” Phil laughs, fully leaning back into it. He feels pure, bubbly joy. He hears Dan’s little giggle over the speakers and wants to save the sound forever.

The thumbnail preview of Phil’s own webcam flickers, and Phil’s eye is drawn to it. Suddenly, he can’t see his own face in the little rectangle. Dan’s face appears there too. This time, it’s older and colder.

Phil blinks.

“What’s wrong, Phil?” The younger Dan asks, looking concerned.

“I see… two.” Phil responds.

The older Dan on the screen stares back hard at Phil and slowly shakes his head. His eyes are black stone and his jaw is set in an unmovable clench.

“I think I have to go, Dan. I’m sorry.” Phil frowns.

Younger Dan pouts. “Why? I miss you. I want to be with you.”

“I-I miss you too.”

The older Dan in the corner of the screen hangs up the call.

***

Phil’s alarm goes off at an unholy hour for him, and he has a moment of flailing fear and displacement before he remembers where he is. There’s a sad lump lingering in his chest. He's not sure why.

Phil goes about his morning routine. He uses straighteners to tame his fringe, trying not to dwell on how he’s come to dislike his emo fringe as of late. It never seems to lay flat, no matter how much he fries it with heat. But he’s AmazingPhil. What would he be without the hair?

Phil contemplates making a cup of hotel coffee, before deciding against it and brushing his teeth instead. He throws on a nerdy t-shirt and some black jeans and makes his way downstairs to where his matcha tea making activity is supposed to be.

The room ends up being a smaller, airy conference room on the first floor of the hotel. It’s run-of-the-mill, with cream colored walls and grey carpeting. Large windows line the entirety of one wall, allowing the early morning light to spill through into the room. There are long rows of tables set up with chairs, filled with YouTubers. They face a smaller table at the front of the room, stacked with what Phil assumes are matcha tea-making materials.

Phil searches the room and considers where to sit. It feels a little bit like scoping out his place in the school lunchroom. He hates it.

Phil spots Anthony sitting in the back of the room, framed by a giant window. He waves Phil over and Phil finds himself smiling in relief.

“Hey! Here, take a seat.” Anthony pulls out the chair next to him and Phil gratefully slides in. “I see you opted for the sit-down activity, as well.”

“Yeah, I’m not really an early morning runner. Or group yoga...er.” Phil chuckles. “I wonder what other activities they have planned today for us internet-dwellers.”

Anthony pulls out a Summit Schedule that he picked up somewhere along the way. He is showing Phil the sessions (and more importantly, meals) that are planned for the day, when the teacher to their current session walks in and gets the attention of the room, introducing herself as Himari.

Phil notices Dan Howell himself trailing behind her, awkwardly hovering in the doorway like he doesn’t know if he should intrude or escape while he still can. Phil is willing Dan away with his mind when Himari hurriedly motions Dan in and gestures to the room. Of course, Anthony beckons Dan over to their table, where there is an empty spot next to Phil. Of course.

“Thanks,” Dan across Phil to Anthony. “Felt like uni lectures all over again.”

Phil tries to not roll his eyes, and listens to Himari explain the history of matcha tea to the roomful of intrigued adults. She describes what traditional Japanese tea ceremonies look like, depending on how and for who the tea is prepared. With careful hands, she demonstrates how they are going to prepare the tea by sieving the matcha powder into the _chawan_ , the tea bowl. She shows them the proper “zig-zag” technique of whisking the tea Phil finds himself not even trying to ignore Dan anymore, because Phil is so curious.

“All right, I think it’s time for you all to give matcha a try!” Himari smiles and gestures at the materials on table. She elects several volunteers to pass out the materials, which Phil gladly does to get away from his own table.

“Smells like moss.” Dan deadpans, when Phil hands him the little tin of matcha powder for their table.

Phil blinks at him and shrugs, “Apt observation. It _is_ ground up tea leaves.” Anthony chuckles weakly. Phil gingerly places a scoop, sieve, whisk, and three tea bowls in front of Dan and sits down in the middle of the table. Dan wordlessly slides the bowls down the table.

Anthony clears his throat, “So, sieving time?” The atmosphere around their table is crawling with awkwardness and tension. Phil briefly wishes he had a shell he could crawl into. Dan sieves a scoop of the matcha powder into his bowl. His big hands look a little hilarious around the tiny, fragile scoop. It looks like he’s consumed the Alice in Wonderland ‘eat me cake’ and suddenly grew into a giant. Phil keeps the comparison to himself.

“We are going to be hella cultured after this.” Phil can tell that Anthony is trying so desperately to cut the tension and get Dan and Phil to talk. Phil kind of feels bad.

For Anthony’s sake, Phil takes the bait. “Is that all it takes to be cultured? One matcha tea training session?” He watches Dan gently pass the tools he’s done with down the table. He has the urge to be as petty as possible and point out the chunks that are visible in Dan’s bowl, but decides to be civil for Anthony’s sake.

“Yes, obviously.” Anthony laughs, “Three white guys making tea. What’s more cultural than that?”

Phil completes his own scoop. “Hmm… maybe an actual Japanese tea ceremony that isn’t whitewashed for a bunch of YouTubers.”

Dan actually lets out a sharp laugh at that comment, which doesn’t make Phil a little bit proud. It doesn’t.

“Hey, at least they are trying,” Anthony drops his voice, “We could be at a fidget spinner session.”

Dan and Phil laugh together. “They could have combined matcha tea and fidget spinners,” Dan jokes.

Phil turns to Dan with a grin, “Now that’s a video idea.”

“Maybe for _your_ channel, mate.”

Phil finds the smile dropping off his face and the need to reach over and shake Dan strengthen. Can he not go five minutes without being an utter tosser? Phil gets it. Dan makes “art.” Phil doesn’t.

Anthony doesn’t really notice Phil’s sudden silence or how the smile on Dan’s face has become tight. “Hey, we need some hot water to make this powder into tea.” And before Phil can volunteer himself, Anthony is pushing himself out of his seat, “I’ll go get it.”

With Anthony gone, Phil is hyper-aware of Dan to his right, playing with the powder in his tea bowl. Phil feels like he should say something to break the tension, but knows he will probably just be met with more sarcasm.

“So it’s been awhile, huh?” Dan says, breaking Phil out of his thoughts and making him jump in his chair. “Settle down, now, Lester. I won’t bite.”

Phil tries his hardest to keep thoughts of Dan and biting out of his head. Dangerous memories reside along that train of thought. Phil turns to Dan, realizing it’s the first time that morning that he’s actually made eye contact with Dan. Again, Dan’s beauty is both captivating and really fucking annoying. His face familiar, but also unfamiliar. Phil’s brain is short-circuiting with the barrage of affectionate and terrible memories. “Uh, yeah, I guess it’s been awhile. We’ve…” Phil’s sentence fades as he tries to figure if he wants to tell the truth or lie out of his ass. “Been busy,” he decides lamely.

Dan snorts and rolls his eyes. “Right, busy. You haven’t been avoiding me or anything like that.”

And just like that, Phil is seeing red again. It’s just like Dan to put it all on him. _Phil’s_ been avoiding him, as if Dan hadn’t asked Phil to leave him alone all those years ago. As if Dan hadn’t completely ghosted Phil— deleted his skype profile, stopped answering Phil’s texts and calls. It _is_ really Phil’s fault that he decided he didn’t need the childishness in his life, no matter how much he thought he loved Dan.

“Yeah, you’ve been busy with your four videos a year. Really must take a lot out of a YouTuber.” Phil breaks eye contact with those fucking brown eyes and stares down at the table. He already regrets the cutting statement. He knows he’s stooping to Dan’s level and being petty. He knows he’s briefly becoming the very type of person that Phil can’t stand. But there’s something about Dan Howell that does this to Phil.

Dan snorts derisively and leans his cheek on his fist. Phil’s eyes flicker briefly to the snarky half-smile on Dan’s lips and tries not to dwell on his lips in general. Phil knows he’s started a battle that he cannot win. Dan literally has a reputation in the YouTube community for attracting drama. Phil looks desperately for Anthony, but unfortunately, he is waiting at the front of the room, while water for their table boils in an electric kettle.

“It really can’t take as much energy as it does for a 30 year old to continue to pretend he’s an innocent, animal-obsessed weirdo. Or for a has-been who can’t give up on his emo fringe to follow as many YouTube crazes and challenges as he can in order to stay relevant.”

Phil’s eyes widen. And he finds himself speechless. Of course, like a insecurity-detector programmed to find Phil’s self-doubts, Dan has pinpointed the exact argument that Phil has had with himself time and time again for the last two years.

If Dan notices Phil’s struggles, Phil’s audience must know. Everyone must know just how much Phil is battling himself right now.

Embarrassingly enough, Phil can feel the pressure of tears in the back of his eyeballs. He blinks the pressure away, because he is _not_ going to let Dan know how much Dan’s comment has affected him.

Phil takes a steadying breath. “It’s too bad you take yourself so seriously, Dan.” Phil immediately wants to stop talking, because he knows that Dan can hear that Phil’s choked up. “One day, you are going to look back and realize that you’ve spent your whole life being critical and cynical, regretting every move you make and distancing yourself from the ones who lo—” Phil stops himself.

A hush falls between the two of them. The rest of the room is humming with conversation, but it might as well be dead silent. Dan doesn’t answer Phil’s rant. Phil sneakily wipes the corner of his eye.

They stare ahead, watching Anthony watch a kettle boil.

And when he comes back, they both act like nothing happened. Unfortunately, that comes with unforseen consequences, such as Anthony inviting them both to spend the rest of the day together with him because he doesn’t really know anybody else at the Summit. Neither Dan or Phil can come up with an excuse to say no.

The rest of the day is utterly exhausting. The Creator’s Summit has some light-hearted games and sessions built into it, but, as a whole, it _is_ a professional conference. There are workshops and keynotes on what feels like a billion topics: YouTube’s effect on globalization, ways to subvert tropes and trends, new tools that might be useful for creators, YouTubers’ influence on youth culture, the consequences of video-sharing sites replacing traditional TV. The sessions are mentally taxing, and involve more socializing than Phil is used to having in a month. And then, of course, Phil has to deal with Dan. Ignoring his side-comments, pretending that everything is fine for Anthony, trying his best to be polite. Ignoring the bomb that Dan dropped on him that morning. It’s like Phil is performing mental Olympics.

By the end of the day, when everyone shuffles into the huge conference room for dinner, Phil has one hell of a tension headache. Phil manages to escape to find Hazel, not before accepting Anthony’s invitation to some sort of “disco roller skating” activity down the street that the Summit Leaders have coordinated for everyone. It seems fun and, most importantly, Dan passes up Anthony’s offer. It’s probably too much fun for Serious YouTuber and Artist, Daniel Howell.

Hazel immediately picks up on Phil’s sour mood and gets him to order mixed drink at the bar, instead of partaking in the barely alcoholic sangria that Hazel and her friends keep opting for (because “when in Spain”).

Phil isn’t one to often combat stress with alcohol. In fact, he never drinks for that reason. But tonight, he figures that it’s ok to make an exception. He orders horchata and already finds himself feeling better after the first cool, creamy sip. A pile of empanadas from the buffet line and the knowledge that Daniel Howell will not be intruding on the rest of his evening, has Phil feeling more and more normal by the minute.

Phil finds himself at the roller rink an hour later, two horchatas tipsier. He’s lucky he’s a large lad, or he knows he would be drunker after two mixed drinks. The roller rink is lit up with neon lights and “Dancing Queen” is being blasted over the speakers. Before he can even get into the room with the roller skates, a hotel employee grabs him and brings him to a side room with racks and racks of glittery clothes.

“You can’t take part in 70’s themed roller skating without something sequined,” the black-haired employee grins at Phil and gestures to the racks. Phil squints at his nametag. Ricardo must take Phil’s silence for hesitation and pushes on his back a little. “Come on. I will help you find something fabulous.”

Ricardo takes Phil through a tour of the small closet, making small talk as he goes. He’s really interested in the event as a whole and asks Phil questions about his channel while holding fabrics up to Phil’s skin.

Phil lets himself be dressed by Ricardo. Of course, it helps that he has a stunning smile and two dimples on either side of his cheeks. He tugs a gaudy, button-up with shiny fabric over Phil’s shoulders. “It compliments your eyes,” Ricardo explains with a wink. Phil finds his cheeks heating up at the attention. He steers Phil in front of the full-length mirror next to the door they came through and presents Phil with a flourish of his hands.

Phil turns this way and that, watching the fluorescent light catch on the horrible material. He catches Ricardo’s eyes in the mirror. “O-oh, well thank you.” Phil doesn’t know what to do with such blatant flirting. He needs to get out more. “I look very… fabulous.”

It must be the right answer, because Ricardo lets out a victorious “Ah!” and takes Phil by his shoulders. Before Phil can say anything, Ricardo is planting a kiss on either side of Phil’s cheeks.

“Oh, ah. Is this the place for costumes? Someone directed me here but, uh.” Phil whips his head around to make awkward eye-contact with Dan. He is standing at the entrance of the door, looking like he wants to be anywhere but there. There’s an annoyed glint in his eye that satisfies Phil.

“Yes, yes. Take a peek at any of the racks.” Ricardo takes a step back from Phil and gestures again. Phil notices he does a lot of gesturing. “You,” Ricardo taps Phil’s cheek, “need to go to the next room for face glitter.”

“Face glitter?”

“Yes. It will go with the glitter in your eyes.” Ricardo winks again and Phil has the feeling that if he asked Ricardo to come back to his room later, Phil could be a very happy man tonight. Instead of propositioning the hotel employee, however, Phil finds himself turning back to look at Dan.

He is casting murderous looks at Ricardo. Phil can see the square of Dan’s jaw shifting as if he’s clenching his teeth. Phil tells himself that it has nothing to do with him. Ricardo is paying Dan no attention anway, so why should Phil? “Thank you, Ricardo.” He awkwardly pats the man’s shoulder and immediately wants to disappear into the ground because who returns flirty cheek kisses with painfully awkward pats on the shoulder? “I look great. Very glitzy.”

“Of course, handsome.” Ricardo puts a wide hand over Phil’s, “You come see me any time!”

Phil flushes. Ricardo is leaving nothing up to interpretation, and yet Phil finds his feet taking him back into the hallway to find the room with the face painter.

It’s probably just to get away from Dan. Stupid Dan, who isn’t even supposed to be there to begin with.

It turns out that Phil is about as coordinated on roller skates as a baby deer learning to walk. Anthony spends the night laughing at Phil and filming him for his Instagram stories. Dan is there, because of course he’s there. He’s relatively quiet, though. In fact, if Phil knew any better he would say that Dan was moody.

Phil remembers what Dan is like when he’s moody, unfortunately. He remembers morose skype conversations and spending more of his time making sure Dan was ok than living his own life.

Anthony insists on all of them taking a selfie because of their matching glitter and retro clothes. Dan and Phil oblige him, but he knows every picture must look the same. Tense and awkward.

Phil makes good use of the free drinks that are being passed out to everyone with a Summit badge, which probably isn’t doing much for his coordination. But all the drinks are fruity and glittery and have fun names.

Anthony is at the bar finding a drink and Phil is finishing up his second “ABBA-tini,” sort of ignoring the ‘no drinks on the rink’ rule, when Dan takes a particularly bad spill onto the floor right next to him. His skates slip out from underneath him and he falls hard on his knees. The sharp crack they make falling to the floor echoes and a few people let out sympathetic hisses.

“Oh, ouch.” Phil says through a grimace. “Here lemme help you up,” he reaches for Dan’s hand.

“No, no.” Dan flaps his hands at Phil. “Don’t touch me; the uncoordinated can’t help the uncoordinated.”

Phil rolls his eyes. “For once in your life, Howell, don’t be a prickly arse and just accept my help.”

There’s an extended moment where Dan is scowling at Phil and Phil is looking down at Dan with a raised eyebrow. Then Dan reaches out and grabs Phil’s hand. Phil doesn’t dwell on how long it’s been since he’s had the warm pressure of Dan’s palm against his own. It still feels pretty great, if he’s being honest. Phil’s going to blame the honesty on the alcohol.

They both try to get Dan off the floor and Dan was probably right that Phil wasn’t the right person for this job. Phil realizes that things are a lot more hazy than he previously thought. He probably should lay off the ABBA-tinis.

They must look like a mess flailing and slipping on the edge of the rink. Eventually, though, Dan gets back on his feet and lets go of Phil’s hand like it’s burned him. The absence of his hand is stark. Phil feels a little hollow in his chest and suddenly wants to get very far away from this place so he can have a cry.

“Thanks.” Dan mumbles.

Phil swallows back the tightness in his throat. “Yeah, ‘course.”

They skate along in silence for a couple of painful minutes. Anthony is talking to someone at the bar, and can’t rescue them. Dan clears his throat, “So…” Dan pauses. “You and Ricardo, then?”

Phil chokes, and flails his arms to try to balance himself. “Oh, ah, no. I don’t even know him.” Phil scratches the back of his burning neck. Out of all the awkward conversations Phil has had in his life, this is going to be up there among the most awkward.

“Looks like you two knew each other pretty well,” Dan mumbles. He probably doesn’t mean for Phil to hear, but Phil still hears him loud and clear.

“Why do you even care?” Phil snaps. His head hurts. The neon lights are drying his eyes out. The roller skates are making his ankles ache. He’s running out of patience to deal with Dan, a person that Phil has tried his hardest _not_ to see for the past six years who he has somehow managed to spend the last 12 hours with.

“I don’t, obviously,” Dan sneers. “Geez, I’m just trying to make conversation.”

“Sure. Whatever.” Phil holds back the urge to stick out his roller skate and trip Dan, just because it would probably end in his own demise as well. Instead, he skates his way toward the exit of the rink. “I’m going to head out.” Suddenly, Phil is very much done with the day. “I’ll see you around, Dan.” Phil calls over his shoulder, not waiting for a response.

Anthony catches Phil on the way out of the rink. “Hey man, are you heading out?” Anthony tosses an arm over Phil’s shoulder. “Too many Bohemian Rhapsodies? I hear people are getting fucked up on those.” Anthony shakes his shoulder lightly and Phil can feel the empanadas and various alcoholic beverages sloshing around in his stomach.

“No, I think ABBA fucked me harder than Queen.” Phil cringes.

Anthony tosses his head back and laughs. “Oh, boy. The morning after ABBA is gonna suuuck. Sleep well.” Phil nods and begins to toddle away to get his skates off and get the hell out of there.

Phil’s hotel bed is so cosy and welcoming that Phil doesn’t even bother doing anything but dropping his jeans and crawling under the cool covers.

***

Phil sleeps like the dead, but when he wakes up to the sound of his alarm, he feels like someone has steam-rollered over him in the night. His muscles ache and there’s glitter smeared all over his pillow. Phil snaps a picture of it and sends it to Anthony with the caption _the morning after ABBA_. Instead of waiting for a response, Phil takes a long, hot shower and lets the tension bleed out of his muscles.

The second day of the Creators Summit is a half-day, which Phil is glad for. He eats a ton of greasy breakfast, which sets his stomach right again, and spends the rest of the morning going to workshops and networking sessions and cheesy games _alone_. Blessedly alone. He only ducks into a few corridors when he spots a curly head, not even waiting long enough to confirm that it’s Dan. After lunch with Anthony, Joe, and Caspar, the Summit is over and Phil has to take a taxi to the airport for his flight back to London. Home sweet home.

Phil is waiting at his gate in the airport when he gets out his phone and texts Tom.

Phil _: b home soon._

Tom _: dang, does tht mean i have to clean??_

Phil _: yes. slob._

Tom _: :(_

Tom _: did you have fun?_

Phil _: again, it was a work conference, not a vacation._

Phil _: but, ill tell you all abt it when i get home_

Tom _: oshit it sounds like theres tea_

Phil _: dont speak internet. Its weird_

Tom _: spill that scalding tea queen_

Phil _: pls stop_

Tom: _yaaaaaas_

Phil: tht doesnt even make sense

Phil smiles and shakes his head at his phone. Phil’s said it before and he will say it again: thank god for Tom. Phil’s flight is called for boarding and Phil texts a quick goodbye before standing. Phil is looking forward to getting back home, where he can wear pajamas for three days straight and play video games with minimal socializing.

These kind of YouTube events really exhaust him, even when the ghosts of his past aren’t lurking around every corner.


	4. Chapter 4

Phil’s pajama time at home after Spain is cut short when his manager, Maria, calls him unexpectedly. Her name appears on his phone when he’s several hours deep into Breath of the Wild. It stops him short, because Maria mostly helps him out with big projects and PR stuff. She rarely helps him with his videos or general YouTube. So what could she possibly want from Phil who has zero large projects on the horizon and has been planning to take the rest of 2017 easy?

She’s the one who helped organize his attendance to the Summit, though. So it’s possible she wants a recap.

Phil answers the call, despite wanting to, because he knows what’s good for him. “Morning, Maria.”

“Phil! Sorry, my friend, but it’s definitely afternoon.”

Phil adjusts his glasses and peers across the living room at Tom’s football themed clock that Phil makes fun of mercilessly and Tom insists his nan got for him. The time reads 2:33 PM. “Hm, so it is. I’m busy with so many important things, you see. Time just escaped me.”

Maria laughs, “You’re full of shit. You are 100% sitting on the couch playing video games. Probably in your pants.”

Phil lets out a sound of indignation. “They’re marvel pjs, thanks very much. I’m too polite to put my ass on the sofa cushions. How can I help you today, Maria?” He sounds sarcastic, but he actually wouldn’t trade his manager for the world. She understands what Phil is trying to do with his channel— probably even better than him at this point. And he met her in uni when he was finishing his Post-Production degree, so she really knows everything there is to know. Phil likes to surround himself with people who were around before his channel got big. He likes being friends with the people he works with. There’s more trust, more authenticity. She wants Phil to succeed, not just his endeavours or brand or whatever.

“So, I got a call for you this morning.” Maria gets straight into the business, even before Phil can ask her how her two-year old is doing. It must be important, then. “How much have you heard about Stop, Speak, Support?”

Phil picks his feet up off his coffee table and places them on the floor in efforts to switch his brain to a more professional mode. “Oh, ah. Nothing, I don’t think? Should I know about them?”

“No, they haven’t really launched yet, other than little events. That’s where you would come in.”

Phil pushes himself off the couch in search of a pen and notebook to write details down for what’s starting to sound like another event for Phil to attend. “How so?” he asks, finding his supplies and writing down ‘Stop, Speak, Support’ in capital letters at the top of the page.

“Stop, Speak Support is a campaign put together by the Royal Foundation Taskforce on the Prevention of Cyberbullying.”

“Jesus, that sounds official.”

Maria snorts, “Try Prince Harry official.”

“Oh.” Phil’s eyes widen. “What do they want with me?”

“They are making this campaign to stop cyberbullying. It’s geared toward kids. So to make it more accessible to _the youth_ ,” Phil can hear the sarcastic air quotes, “They’re reaching out to influencers to be part of a tour across the United Kingdom. They want you to be an influencer on their tour!”

Phil hasn’t written anything since ‘Prince Harry???’ He feels his mouth drop open. “Oh, wow.”

Maria’s excitement is palpable across the telephone line. “Yeah! I’ll send over some details, but they would really like an answer as soon as possible, since the first planning meeting is the end of next week.”

Phil shakes his head and writes down the date. He’s in awe. Could this be an opportunity to do something really important with his influence? Funny, weird videos and meet and greets are fine, but being part of a campaign for cyberbullying is something else entirely. “Wow, what an opportunity.”

Phil’s anxiety kicks in. There’s a reason why he’s only ever done his little videos on YouTube, the Amazing Book, and his show on BBC Radio. He’s not exactly a public speaker, unless he absolutely has to. This seems like one of those times where Phil just has to suck it up and get over that fear. “Other than the whole public speaking bit, Is there any reason you think I should say no?”

Maria is quiet for a moment. “Well, I hear you won’t be the only YouTuber.”

Phil doodles a tiny alien riding a spaceship. “Oh? It can’t be that bad, right? It’s not like they got—”

“I think they also asked Dan Howell,” she rushes to say. Phil heart practically stops and his hand pauses mid-doodle. “I can’t confirm, of course, but you know I’m friends with his manager. I’m pretty sure he’s the other YouTuber they asked to go on tour for the campaign.”

“Oh,” is all he can manage. What he’d really like to say is something along the lines of, _oh for fuck’s sake._

Is some trickster god pulling an elaborate prank on him? Has his negative karma piling up over the years and he’s being punished for every white lie, rude thought, or rule broken? Why else is Dan suddenly haunting his life?

“That’s—”

“It’s not ideal,” Maria quickly finishes the sentence for him. She knew Dan and Phil when they were together. She saw the messy breakup and fallout. She _knows._ She pauses and Phil can hear her take a deep breath. “But, Phil, I don’t want this… shit with Dan to mess up things for you professionally.” Phil doesn’t respond. He’s still reeling, thinking about working with Dan. Creating something with Dan. Seeing Dan all the time. Can he do that? Can _Dan_ do that? “The breakup was so long ago. You’re different. Dan’s different. I’m not going to say that this will be easy, but maybe you can put your differences aside and make this work.”

Phil thinks about his time in Spain with Dan, and how every conversation ended with one of them saying something snarky. How Dan took every opportunity to diss Phil’s content or personality. How much Phil always just wanted to get away from Dan. Could that really be different if they have a project to work on?

“Phil? Are you still there? I’m not telling you to say yes. You need to do what you need to do. I just don’t want you to give up a really awesome opportunity just because of some ex-boyfriend.”

Phil closes his eyes and sighs. “Can I think about it and let you know tomorrow?”

Maria’s voice is gentle, “Of course. I’ll send you details. I’d tell you to take your time, but…”

“Yeah, no. I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

“Ok. Be well, Philly. Talk to you later.”

Phil says goodbye and hangs up, then immediately goes back to the couch and crawls underneath the throw blanket that lives on the sofa. “Shit,” Phil murmurs.

***

Later that evening, Phil distracts himself from the back-and-forth mind torture by cooking dinner. He has spent the last hours agonizing about his decision, mostly by imagining worst-case scenarios.

On the one hand, Phil can’t just pass up on being part of a _national campaign_ for such a trivial reason. Not only is it a good cause, but, quite simply, it’s a business opportunity that would probably help Phil’s career. And Phil’s been thinking a lot lately about where his career is going and if the “AmazingPhil” persona is something he needs to escape or just change.

But on the other hand, the thought of spending time and working with Dan is making Phil’s stomach do cartwheels. What if it crashes and burns and Phil has to step away from the campaign with his tail between his legs? What if Dan and Phil have a massive fight in front of professional people? What if they can’t work together and the tour ends up being crap? What if, what if, what if?

Phil stirs bits of chicken around in a frying pan, while anxiety and dread stirs uncomfortably in his stomach.

The front door opens and Tom kicks his way through, arms full of paper bags. Phil jumps in surprise. “Philly! I come bearing groceries.” He shoves the door closed and comes bustling into the kitchen. “Oh man, something smells delicious! I hope you made enough for the two of— what’s wrong?”

Phil scrapes peppers and onions into the pan with the chicken. “Am I that transparent?”

Cheerfully, Tom drops the bags on their counter and begins taking food out. “You’re very pale, yes.”

Phil groans. Teriyaki sauce joins the veggies and chicken in the pan.

“Sorry, sorry. Serious time. What’s wrong?” He pushes his fingers through his sandy hair before placing his elbows on the counter and training his eyes on Phil.

Phil stops fiddling unnecessarily with dinner and covers the pan. “Maria called and told me that some royal taskforce wants me to be a part of a campaign tour against cyberbullying.”

“Mate, that’s amazing!” Thomas’ eyes light up and he grins, showing off his crooked front tooth. “What’s wrong with this picture?”

“Maria is pretty sure that Dan is also headlining this tour.” Phil deadpans miserably. “I’d probably be working pretty closely with him.”

Thomas threads his fingers together, all the mirth disappearing from his face. Phil watches Tom’s transformation from Phil’s best mate, to financial adviser. Sometimes Phil forgets how serious Tom can be and it always takes him by surprise.

“So you are trying to decide if you want to headline this tour with your ex-boyfriend?” Tom doesn’t wait for Phil’s response. “Have you made a pros and cons list? Have you thought about the tour as an investment into your career and future? How would you be compensated? Is it enough to justify emotional labor as well as regular labor?”

Phil expects his head to start spinning, but Thomas’ logic actual helps corale his thoughts in. “Actually, a pros and cons list would be great. I’ve looked over the details that Maria sent over, but I’ve been too cloudy to actually process them.”

“Ok.” Tom smiles reassuringly. “How about I put away groceries, we have some of that delicious-smelling chicken, maybe crack open a bottle of wine. And then you and I sit down and crunch some numbers?” Tom cracks his knuckles. “You know how much I like math.”

Phil rolls his eyes, but feels his gut settle a little. His dread is replaced with an appreciation for Tom. Phil watches his flatmate stow the rest of the groceries away in the fridge. “What would I do without you?”

Tom straightens and claps a hand onto Phil’s shoulder. “Work yourself up into a panic a couple times a week.” He pulls Phil into a side hug. “But actually, it’s what friends do. Remember when you helped me figure what was going on with Asta? The Norwegian bird? Sometimes you just need someone removed from the situation to set your head straight.”

Two plates of dinner and several glasses of wine later, Phil has a messy list of pros and cons sketched out. Tom, who polished off most of the bottle of wine himself, is currently lounging deeply into the sofa and monologuing about “not letting some twink from ten years halt the growth of your successful career.”

While the mix of economic jargon and straight-up swearing is fascinating, Phil only passively listens to Thomas’ rant. Instead, he’s letting himself think about what it might be like to plan a tour and travel England, talking to kids about something important and lasting. He’s thinking about what it might be like if this campaign is successful for him.

He’s allowing himself to imagine a situation where Dan and him actually work well together. Maybe it will be awkward, especially at first. Maybe they’ll fight. But maybe they’ll get over it, too, and make something incredible. There was a time in their lives were they made videos together. Videos that are now set to private on Phil’s channel, but he remembers with fondness, if only for how creative and fun they were to make. Dan and Phil’s creativity and work ethic fit together like two puzzle pieces back in the day.

Before Phil can start remembering more dangerous memories like the many times he laid in bed with Dan, dreaming and scheming future projects, like world tours, together, he returns his attention to Tom and the list sitting on his lap. It’s so obvious that all of the pros far outweigh any cons, real or imagined.

“I think I’m gonna say yes.” Phil says, quietly, interrupting Tom’s rant which has somehow morphed into an unintelligible one-sided conversation about exchange-traded funds.

Tom smiles widely and reaches across the couch to grab Phil’s shoulder and shake it lightly. “I had an idea you’d say that, mate. I think you should absolutely do this.”

Phil tries to tamp down the nervous butterflies fluttering against the walls of his stomach. “I’m gonna call Maria now so I don’t chicken out later.”

Tom tosses his head back and laughs. “Yeah, that’s smart. Tell Maria hi for me. Invite her over for a board game night. We haven’t done that in forever.” Phil hums and Tom pushes himself off the couch and heads back toward the kitchen with his plate.

Phil finds Maria’s contact in his phone. His finger hovers over the call button. There’s a new, tumultuous feeling in his stomach and chest. It isn’t the sick feeling that he felt before Tom set his head straight. It’s a cocktail of anxiety, excitement, and pride in himself for making this leap. Phil rubs at his skin absently, as if it would make the uncomfortable feeling go away.

“Phil! Did you come to a decision?”

“Yeah.”


	5. Chapter 5

The time before the official planning meeting for Stop, Speak, Support goes by in a flurry of conference calls, emails, and shared planning documents. Google representatives on the Royal Taskforce spend the days leading up to the meeting explaining to Phil what the Taskforce is, relaying all of the tech companies and charities involved, and getting Phil’s initial ideas for the tour. Somehow, everyone seems to think that Phil has the experience and ability to _plan a tour._ Which is both terrifying and flattering. Phil likes to think he’s rising to the occasion.

Phil notices that Dan _is_ in fact involved with all of the pre-planning. His name is on all the emails and documents, and sometimes he chimes in with is own suggestions on email threads. So, Phil gets his confirmation that Dan’s going to be on the tour with Phil. He seems to be the only other YouTuber on the team.

Phil doesn’t bring it up to any of the Google reps he’s working with. He’s going to be 110% professional. He’s not going to give anyone a reason to doubt his abilities.

Before long, the day of the official planning meeting for Stop, Speak, Support arrives. Phil wakes that morning after a night of tossing and turning. There are purple bags under his eyes, making the wrinkles around them more noticeable. After his shower, Phil worries at his fringe. It isn’t very professional looking, but it’s not like there’s much else he can do with it. Phil considers just going and getting a haircut and getting rid of the fringe. He’s had it for too many years and it’s become a security blanket for him. He could embrace a mature, sleek quiff and finally feel confident again.

The lurching in his gut tells Phil that now is not the time for something as scary as a hair change. He reluctantly digs the hairdryer and straighteners out from underneath his sink.  

Tom is fully dressed and throwing back a cup of coffee when Phil shuffles out into the living room.

“Oh, mate. You look like shite.”

“Cheers,” Phil grumbles. He pushes his shoulder against Tom’s to move him out of the way so Phil can make himself a coffee.

“Sorry, no. That came out wrong,” Tom washes his cup and sticks it into the dishwasher because he’s always been a little anal about cleanliness. “You just look like you didn’t sleep.”

Phil grunts and takes a sip of his burning hot drink. The scalding sip settles in him, warming him. “Didn’t.”

Tom trains sympathetic hazel eyes on Phil and pats him on the cheek. “Sorry, buddy. You’re gonna do great. Dan’s just gonna be in the background. He’s a side character in your story now.”

Somehow, Tom’s statement sends a painful twang slicing through Phil’s chest, for no apparent reason. The fact that Dan doesn’t have anything to do with Phil’s life anymore should soothe him. It’s too early for this shit.

“Thanks,” Phil croaks. “You know me. I’m just …”

“Anxious?” Tom supplies gently, easing himself back against the kitchen counter.

Phil nods miserably.

“I’m sorry.” He glances at his watch. “And I’m double sorry to have to leave you in your hour of need, but I’m going to be late for the tube if I don’t leave right now.”

Phil forces a weak smile. “It’s ok. You have to make money so we can keep affording this flat.”

“Mate,” Tom snorts. “You’re kind of a millionaire if you forgot.”

“Shut up.”

Tom pats Phil’s cheek again, which, if Phil wasn’t feeling so crap, would be a funny sight since Tom is so much shorter than Phil. Not to mention it’s a very mum thing to do. Tom would make a good mum.

When Tom leaves, Phil searches for the box of biscuits that he bought at Tesco recently and hid from Tom. His flatmate would tell him that biscuits aren’t breakfast food, but Phil thinks that he deserves one on a stressful day like today.

A few hours, several cups of coffee, and an embarrassing amount of biscuits later, Phil looks and feels less like a zombie.

No one told him what the dress code for an official planning meeting with the Royal Foundation Taskforce Against Cyberbullying is, so he agonizes over that for several minutes. Since his job is to make funny videos on the internet, he doesn’t own much more than black jeans and zany t-shirts. The people who hired him must know that.

He digs through pretty much everything he owns and manages to find a boring black jumper that his mum bought him off Topman that he’s never worn, but is definitely more professional than his regular clothes. He slips it on a decides at the last minute to keep his glasses on, instead of struggling to put contacts into dry, achy eyes. He can’t do much in the trouser department, but a glance into his bathroom mirror reassures him that he looks relatively put together.

Phil orders an uber and anxiously watches it approach him on his phone.

Phil: _I’m fucking nervous_

Maria: _You got this. I’ll be there._

Phil: _Thnk god. Sit next to me so u can kick me if i say somthng stupid._

Maria sends him eye-rolling emojis. _You wont say anything stupid. You got plenty of great ideas. They’ll love you._

Phil receives the text that his uber has arrived. He pockets his phone and hopes to the trickster god apparently plaguing his life that she’s right.

***

Phil already feels out of his depth when the chair of the Royal Foundation Taskforce introduces himself as the Commander of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire and extends his hand for Phil to shake. Brent Hoberman doesn’t look like what Phil would imagine a Commander of the Most Excellent Order to look like. He seems younger and more laid back than Phil would have expected. Nevertheless, Phil shakes his hand and introduces himself and only stumbles a little over the phrase ‘YouTube content creator’ and co-director of IRL Digital.’ Phil thinks he sees a little surprise in Brent’s eyes and it makes Phil a little proud. People always underestimate him; it’s nice to be able to prove them wrong once in while.

Maria shakes Brent’s hand too and introduces herself, and then they all settle around a conference room off of Brent’s office.

“It’s great that you two can join us today. Prince Harry and the rest of the Royal Foundation Taskforce are so excited for you to work with us.” Brent’s voice is posh, deep, and ringing with smooth authority. Phil can’t help but feel a little intimidated by him. “We are just waiting on a few more people.” Brent checks his watch. “You may know Daniel Howell? He’s another YouTuber such as yourself.”

There’s a polite, extended pause and Phil realizes that Brent is expecting a response. “Oh, yes. I know Daniel pretty well. I’m well excited to work with him. And the Royal Taskforce too.” Phil wipes his sweating palms on his pants. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Maria give what he hopes is a reassuring nod.

Brent claps his hands together. “Wonderful! I’m so glad you two know each other. This will work tremendously with our plan to give the two of you complete creative liberty to make this school tour fun and engaging to students. Of course, the Royal Taskforce will help you with the tech, transportation, and organization. But, we want you and Daniel to be the visionaries.” Brent chuckles, “We figured it makes sense for the gentlemen who have amassed audiences of millions of adolescents to plan the tour geared toward adolescents, rather than a few stuffy CEOs.”

Phil schools his face to look neutral with an air of professional excitement. On the inside, his heart is hammering and thoughts are swirling in his head. It looks like Dan is going to become a main character in Phil’s story once again. “Oh, that’s such a wonderful opportunity!” Phil forces out, hoping he doesn’t sound like a complete twat.

Brent suddenly stands and Phil follows his eyes to Dan coming in through the conference room with his own manager. Brent and Dan do the same song and dance of introductions.

Dan is wearing a grid-patterned jumper and expensive-looking trainers and Phil can’t help but feel a _tiny bit_ satisfied that Dan looks just about as lost as Phil does. Behind Dan, a few more people trickle into the conference room. Phil recognizes one of them as a Google rep he has already talked to. The rest introduce themselves as representatives of the various tech companies and charities that make up the Royal Taskforce. When everyone has made introductions and have settled in seats, Brent officially begins the meeting.

He apologizes that the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge couldn’t be present, assuring the group that the royals would like to be involved in some pieces of the tour, but can’t be consistently involved for security purposes. Phil feels a tiny bit disappointed, but understands things are tricky when it comes to actual royalty.

Dan is sat across from Phil and they keep making awkward eye-contact and then immediately averting their eyes.

Brent explains what he’s already told Phil: that him and Dan are to be the visionaries, while everyone else provides them with the tech, funds, and additional help they need. Phil watches Dan’s reaction out of the corner of his eye, but can’t interpret the lightning-fast flashes that he sees on Dan’s face. Brent discusses a timeline, using the massive SmartBoard mounted behind him to show them a sleek calendar. Phil can’t help but drop his mouth when he learns that the first school they will be visiting is planning on having them in a month.

Phil looks around the table to see neutral faces, except maybe Dan who is swallowing hard when Phil’s eyes land on him. Maybe the idea of planning a tour in a month is overwhelming for Dan too.

Brent then opens the table for discussion. There’s an extended beat of polite silence where everyone else is waiting for someone else to go first.

Phil takes a deep breath and opens his MacBook to the list of ideas he’s come up with. “I think we should aim to have this presentation as authentic and interactive as possible,” Phil begins. “I can’t think of a single teenager who wants to listen to two adults talk at them for an hour on end. It would be great to have some controlled audience participation.”

“I hate audience participation,” Dan interrupts and chimes from across the table. Phil feels his blood start to simmer.

Phil’s eyes flit to him. “Yeah, me too. That’s why I said _controlled_ audience participation. Maybe have an entrance survey that students take. We can base some parts of the presentation on their answers. It would be a nice way to get some honesty. Some back and forth with the kids.”

Phil sees people around the table smile and nod. A few of them hum encouragingly and Phil can’t help but feel like he’s on the right track.

Dan clears his throat. “See, I was hoping it could be more scripted. We can’t predict what students are going to say and it’s will be a lot easier on us if we have things to say.”

Phil clenches his jaw. Brent speaks up from his place at the head of the table, “Daniel has a great point. We want some consistency between shows. I was imagining the entire thing being scripted.” Phil frowns and sort of wants to punch Dan in his self-satisfied face. “But, Philip brings something to the table that I hadn’t considered. We want students to feel like they’re taking part in a conversation, rather than being talked down to. It will be more engaging.”

Phil smiles sweetly at Dan, who almost imperceptibly rolls his eyes. So this is how they are going to play this meeting. They’re going to be passive-aggressive like a couple of children.

Maria chimes in, “Putting the two together. The best of both worlds.” Phil hears the warning in her voice.

Everyone else in the conference room begin to call out ideas for the presentation. Some suggestions are tame and expected, like a Q&A portion or cyberbullying scenarios. Others are a little more out of the box— simulations, electric buzzer face-offs, angel vs. devil on the shoulder improv.

The Google rep, Oscar, stands up at some point and begins to take notes on the SmartBoard.

“We could include music,” Dan pipes up at some point in the meeting. “I know I used music as a way to connect to things when I was a teen.” Oscar writes music down on the board.

“What do you suggest? It’s not like we can get out on stage and sing a song about cyberbullying,” Phil responds cynically.

“Well, why not?” Dan shrugs a shoulder. “I can play the piano. We could make fun of ourselves while we do it.”

“It’s going to sound disingenuous. Students will be able to see right past it.” Phil recognizes that no one is offering feedback on any of the other ideas being passed around the table right now, and he should probably stop. But, he can’t help but want to make Dan know what it feels like for his ideas to be questioned in front of a group of professionals. Maria sends her first kick of the meeting straight into Phil’s ankle. He winces, and silently vows to leave it.

“Well, it depends on how we deliver it, Phil. If you’re disingenuous about the topic, the kids will see that.”

Phil can hear the planative accusation in Dan’s voice. Phil’s blood goes from a steady simmer to a boil. It’s ironic that Dan is on this tour to end cyberbullying when he’s known for being too mouthy about his opinions of others on the internet. It wasn’t a month ago that he dissed Phil’s own creation on live camera. “Better disingenuous than hypocritical,” Phil murmurs. He can see that Dan has heard by the frown that takes over the smirk on his face. His eyes grow cold and dark.

Before Dan can open his mouth to respond, Brent claps his hands. “We’ve been at this for while! How about a ten minute break, friends? Oscar and I can transcribe these notes and rearrange them into a proper brainstorm for Daniel and Philip to go off of when they make their official plans.” Phil doesn’t miss the pointed way Brent says their names, and he feels properly scolded. Just as fast as it came over him, the anger leaves Phil’s bloodstream. “There are bathrooms just outside of the office and a lovely breakroom with coffee and snacks just down the hall. Please, everyone help yourselves.”

Phil watches a few people leave the room to find food and bathrooms. Phil doesn’t know if he should go or stay. Maria answers his question for him, “Phil, join me to get a cup of coffee, will you?” Phil can recognize when he’s about to get chewed out for being an idiot.

Phil nods and joins Maria in her forced-casual stroll down the hall. They don’t get to the breakroom in question, however. She pulls him into another empty conference room.

“Ria, are we even supposed to be here?” Phil yelps.

She ignores his question. “What the fuck are you doing out there? Do I have to remind you that you are _currently working for royalty?_ They don’t have time for you to have a pissing contest with your ex-boyfriend over _music_.”

Phil hangs his head and scratches the back of his neck. “God, yeah. You’re right. I’m so sorry.”

Phil glances up at his manager and sees the fight drain out of her immediately. “He just knows how to get under my skin. I need to ignore it.”

Maria takes Phil’s bicep in a strong, reassuring grip. “Yes. And you need to talk to Dan now.”

Phil looks up at the ceiling and closes his eyes. “Yeah, I do. Ugh, he’s just going to give me more shit.”

“Not if I lock you in a room and refuse to let you out until you’ve solved your drama.”

“This isn’t Parks and Rec.” Phil shakes his head, a tentative smile on his lips.

“Don’t question me. I’m going to do it.” Maria, warns. Phil laughs. “No, I’m going to do it. Seriously. You stay here. I’m getting Dan and you two are talking.”

“Maria,” Phil whines. “I didn’t think you meant _now now._ ”

“No time like the present!” She calls over her shoulder, leaving Phil in the dark conference room. As he waits for Maria to return with Dan, Phl morosely looking for a light switch. He feels like a toddler being forced to apologize after having a tantrum. Phil feels the shame of his actions wash over him.

He doesn’t miss feeling like this all the time: ashamed at losing control.

This was one of the reasons that Dan and Phil broke up. They almost never fought, but when they did, it was _ugly._ They knew each other too well— knew exactly what buttons to press. What to say to hurt the most. Their faults aligned too perfectly. Dan knew Phil had a temper, because he repressed his emotions too much. Phil knew Dan constantly second-guessed himself and was wrought with self-doubt and insecurity. They knew exactly what to say to each other to make it hurt.

Phil wants to vomit. Suddenly he wishes he hadn’t eaten only sweets and coffee that morning.

Maria returns, pulling Dan by his wrist. He looks a little like a wild animal that Maria has trapped. “I’m literally closing this door.” Maria, states, glancing at her watch. “Solve your shit in two minutes or I’ll kick both your asses.”

The door shuts with a pointed _snick_. Dan looks at Phil warily. Like a trapped wild animal.

“I’m not sure this’ll work out.” “I’m sorry!” Dan and Phil blurt out at the same time.

“Wait, what?” Phil asks. “You’re not backing out. We can totally do this. You can’t just give up because we had a stupid disagreement on the first day of working together. You can’t give up that easily. You always give up so easily.”

Dan’s jaw clenches. “Don’t you dare say I give up easily. I worked so _fucking_ hard to—” He stops and Phil stares at him with wide eyes for a beat.

Phil swallows hard, trying to think of what to say. What was the rest of that sentence going to be? Surely Dan wasn’t going to bring up the taboo topic of their relationship. They’d never talked about the breakup before. They just. Stopped seeing each other, and that was it.

Phil decides to ignore Dan’s lapse in control. “Look, I’m not saying you don’t work hard. You’ve always been one of the most hard-working people I know. I just don’t want you to give up on something this amazing because you and I let something old and dead cloud our judgement at one meeting.”

Pain flits across Dan’s face, but it’s gone before Phil can really think about it. Dan’s shoulders drop as the tension suddenly bleeds out of them. “Yeah,” he sighs. “It would be really dumb of me to drop out just because we couldn’t behave today.”

Phil nods emphatically. “Truce?” Phil holds his hand out for Dan to shake.

Dan stares at it then rolls his eyes. “Really, Phil? A fucking handshake? This isn’t a business deal.”

Phil keeps his hand stuck out. “But isn’t it?”

Dan’s eyes soften and his mouth turns downward. “Yeah, I guess that’s what it is.”

They clasp their hands together and Phil ignores the fireworks he feels spark in his chest. He’s gone through so many emotions today alone. His heart is fried; it’s no wonder there are sparks under his skin.

The rest of the meeting goes perfectly. Dan and Phil play off each other’s ideas like a harmony and melody seamlessly weaving in and out of each other. The rest of the table seems to take notice, most of them leaning back to listen to the symphony.

Brent calls the meeting to an end three hours after it starts, with hopeful words about the success of their project. He sends pointed looks to Dan and Phil, “I trust that you two will work together on this thing from here on out?”

Phil swallows and nods. He gets the message loud and clear.


	6. Chapter 6

“Are you drinking a caramel macchiato?” Phil asks Dan after sitting next to him in the Starbucks closest to his flat. Phil had decided to suggest they meet on neutral territory for their first planning session together. It seemed safer than going to either of their flats alone together. For some reason.

It doesn’t feel as safe as Phil expected, with Dan still looking a little sleep-tousled in a oversized black and white striped jumper. Phil thinks he can still see sleep lines on his temple. It makes his heart squeeze painfully for some reason.

Dan absently stirs his drink. “Yeah?”

Phil’s about to say something about drinks for old time’s sake but thinks better of it. “Good choice,” he says instead. Phil sips his pumpkin spiced latte. It’s well into October now, so he is all in on the festive drinks. “Let’s get some work done.”

Dan just nods and moves his chair closer to Phil’s so Phil can see what he’s got open on his laptop. Phil’s nose is assaulted by painfully familiar deodorant that sends a muscle-memory _zing_ down his spine into his toes and up back into his groin. It’s kind of ridiculous that a smell, although, granted, one associated with sex and pleasure, can still have an effect on his body six years later. Phil blinks and shakes his head slightly.

Dan’s laptop has Brent and Oscar’s notes displayed on it. The myriad of ideas fill a page and a half of text. “Obviously,” Dan starts, cracking his knuckles, “We are going to have to figure out which of these ideas don’t suck balls.”

Phil really wishes Dan wouldn’t say things like _suck balls_. Phil gives his head another shake.

“Why are you already shaking your head? I haven’t _said_ anything,” Dan huffs.

“Ah, no sorry. I’m not shaking my head at you. Just, uh, had a rough morning.”

“Oh yeah, I had forgotten you need about 80 cups of coffee in the morning before you can be a functional human being. Chuck your gimmicky specialty drink down so we can actually get work done.”

Dan’s snark is enough to wipe all images of balls going into mouths out of Phil’s head. Phil rolls his eyes and leans forward to look at the pages of text. Him and Dan work to eliminate those things that feel too forced, completely undoable, not entertaining, or downright boring. They agree on most everything, bickering only briefly because Phil thinks that dogs could be somehow incorporated into a talk about cyberbullying. Dogs can be somehow incorporated into everything. Unsurprisingly, Phil wins that fight.

They go through a second time to color-code suggestions into various categories. The time passes by quickly and, before they know it, they have a smaller list of rainbow-highlighted, possible segments for their show.

They sit back in their seats just when the second morning rush is starting up. “This is a good start.” Phil tosses back the final drops of PSL and pushes the fringe out of his eyes. He needs a haircut, but he’s been putting it off.

Dan hums in agreement. There’s a beat of silence that Phil can’t decide is uncomfortable or not. They survey opposite ends of the coffeeshop. Phil thinks of something to say. There’s plenty to say about the tour that they’re supposed to create from the ground up in a month’s time, and, yet, nothing comes to mind.

“I liked your video last week where you pranked Tom with spicy gummy bears.” Dan says out of the blue, startling Phil.

“Oh. Hah, thanks.” Phil forces out a chuckle. He’d found those gummy bears for a video he put out a couple months ago and decided to get Tom to eat a couple on camera. It was pretty funny watching him chug milk straight out the carton.

“How’s Tom been?” Dan asks politely.

“Uh, yeah, Tom’s been good. Financial advising and all that.”

“That’s interesting.” Dan drums his fingers on the table. “Must make a good bit doing that.”

Phil feels distinctly uncomfortable talking about how much his best friend makes. “Yeah, I guess. If you care about stuff like that.”

“Don’t you?” Dan asks, an unpleasant downturn to his lips. “You were all about the ‘safety netting’ for when YouTube didn’t work out.”

Phil blinks. Yeah, he’s always had a plan b, in case— call him crazy— some online platform where he made videos talking to an invisible audience while sitting on his bedroom floor didn’t end up making him enough money to live off of. Phil had no idea how Tom came into play in this situation. “Well, don’t you have a safety netting?” Phil asks instead.

It’s the wrong thing to say, judging by the dark cloud that passes by his face. Dan scoffs, “I mean, you must have seen my announcement about dropping out of uni, even if you did everything to ignore me otherwise.”

Phil closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in through his nose to keep calm and not take the bait. No, Phil did not miss that particular life update from Dan, mere months after they broke up. He remembers watching the video a few days after it came out, watching the dramatized breakdown and imagining what the real moment looked like for Dan. Phil remembers the weeks he spent agonizing over the guilt he felt at Dan’s decision. He wondered if Dan had only chosen Manchester just to be close to Phil. He wondered if he pressured Dan too much to stay in uni and stick it out, so he’d have a college degree to fall back on. He wondered if their breakup had anything to do with Dan’s procrastination, anxiety, and loneliness that led to him dropping out. Phil had constructed message after message to send to Dan. To ask him how he was doing and if he needed to talk about it. Each one had been deleted before it could be sent. “Sorry,” Phil adds lamely.

Dan grunts. There’s silence again and Phil wonders if they’ve worked enough to warrant being done for the day, so he can sulk in his pants at home and hide from the cruel world.

“So, are you and Tom ever going to make it official?” Dan blurts, like he physically can’t hold the words back.

Phil furrows his brow. “Make… what official?”

“Your…” Dan looks around the coffeeshop. “Relationship.”

Phil splutters, “His, my, _what_ ?” Phil groans. “Oh god, don’t tell me you ship _Phomas_.”

“You guys aren’t dating?” Dan asks with unabashed disbelief. It’s the first unguarded emotion Phil’s seen on Dan’s face in years. It makes him look softer, younger. Dangerous.

“No, we’re not dating!” Phil presses his cold hands to his heated cheeks. “You’re just as bad as the internet.”

Dan throws up his hands. “You do everything together. You’re always mentioning him in videos. I mean, _mate_ , you’ve been flatmates for what…?”

Phil averts his eyes. “About six years.” Dan falls silent. Phil wishes he could crawl inside Dan’s brain just for a few minutes. Is he remembering what happened to make Phil and Tom become roommates?  Is he recalling pulling out of their lease in Manchester at the last second? Leaving Phil without a plan b?

Phil nervously fixes his hair. “Tom’s straight. Also deserves better than the likes of me.” Phil forces joviality and wipes non-existent crumbs off the table. “So, what do you think? Should we choose segments to start expanding on our own and call it a day? We can meet in a couple of days.”

Dan seems to come out of whatever horrible trip down memory lane he’s taken. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. Why don’t we just quickly go through these and choose some to start with.”

When they leave the Starbucks, neither quite know what to say. Phil is used to storming off after speaking with Dan. He isn’t used to this forced civility and professionalism. They loiter outside the entrance to the coffeeshop. “Well, I’ll see you in two days, then?” Phil asks, scratching the back of his burning neck. There are little pin pricks under his skin and he’s trying hard to tamp down his fight or flight instinct.

“Yeah, see you. Maybe we can review each others notes and get some work done on that interactive survey for students.” Dan kicks his black trainer against the pavement.

“Sounds good. Bye then?” Phil gives a little wave and then immediately feels like an idiot doing it. They were less awkward when they met for the first time in 2009. Phil shuts down that thought process before he can compare Starbucks trips and think about big wheels and first kisses.

“Bye.” Dan begins to walk away, then. He ends up going the exact way that Phil needs to go. Phil looks out at Dan, at a loss for what to do. He decides his only option is to go the other way.

Phil slowly walks in the completely opposite direction of where he lives, wishing the universe hadn’t decided to play this cruel trick on him.

***

The next two weeks pass in much the same way. At first, things continue to be painfully awkward. Things are just _stilted._ Neither of them no what to do around each other. Phil doesn’t know if he should ask about Dan’s life or save the questions and pretend they are distant co-workers. Dan seems content to just do the work and part their ways.

But, then, they seem to fall into a rhythm.

They work together surprisingly well for an ex-couple. Dan adds these brilliant touches that Phil would never think of, but compliment his own additions perfectly. Phil likes to think he does the same thing with Dan’s ideas. Phil makes sure to tell Maria that everything is going swimmingly and he’s very much getting along with Dan.

Sometimes, moments will align perfectly and they’re not even just _getting along_ anymore. They’ll find themselves making obscure pop culture references that they somehow both understand. And then, slowly, they start joking around with each other. They have to in order to make their script any sort of entertaining. But there are perfect moments where one will make the other laugh so hard that Starbucks customers look at them with curiosity and barely veiled annoyance. It seems that, over the years, Phil’s forgotten just how fucking _funny_ Dan is.

These moments happen more and more often, until Phil finds himself looking forward to meeting up with Dan.

They continue to meet at their local Starbucks to work on their project, cutting out and expanding on ideas and then beginning to script segments of the show.

However, it becomes increasingly obvious that Starbucks isn’t the most efficient place to get group work done, especially when they need to read pieces out loud to each other.

“Why do have such a hard-on for Starbucks?” Dan asks one morning at the end of their second week. Their script document is getting longer and they are itching to be able to walk around and recite their lines freely.

Phil splutters momentarily at Dan’s wording. It takes him a moment to realize just what Dan is asking him. “Oh, I just figured it’s made sense for us to come here.” Phil defends weakly.

“Hmm.” Dan hums, staring intently at the script. He deletes a word. “It doesn’t really make sense, no offense, Phil. We could go to mine. Then we’d at least be able to say weird things out loud like _the internet constantly cyber-bullies me for being a furry_ ,” he recites.

Phil chokes on his sip of coffee, then covers it up with a chuckle.

Dan’s flat?

Is Phil ready to go to Dan’s flat? It feels incredibly dangerous.

“Oh, um. Yeah that might make sense. Obviously we’ll do actual rehearsals closer to the beginning of the tour.”

“Yeah, but it we’re going to want to know how it sounds before then.” Dan gestures at the script like it’s obvious.

Is _is_ obvious. Phil was hoping that he could put off something as painful as seeing Dan in his natural habitat, or having to show Dan his. It feels too intimate when Phil is trying to hold Dan at arm’s length. But he knows his time for distance is running out.

“You’re right. Next time, we’ll meet at yours.” Phil nervously fixes the pieces of his fringe that are splitting across his forehead. “Until then, why don’t we work on designing the tour announcement? I know you mentioned you had something in mind.”

“Oh, yeah!” Dan’s eyes light up like they always do when they get back to talking about the project. It’s annoyingly cute. “I know we have a graphic designer on the team, but I had this spark of inspiration last night and I just had to get it into photoshop. If they want to fix it and make it more professional, that’s fine.”

Dan clicks around on his macbook before spinning his computer toward Phil, unguarded glee shining in his eyes. Phil stares a little bit too long at the twinkle in those irises before he snaps out of it, turning his attention to what Dan has on his computer. Phil doesn’t know why sometimes Dan just captures his attention like that. Phil doesn’t know how to put a stop to it.

The announcement that Dan has created is really cool looking, with striking black and red neon lettering. “I really like the colors. We should use those in the rest of the tour. Maybe dress up in red and black or something,” Phil adds, keenly aware that they’re doing it again. They’re complimenting each other’s visions. Playing off each others ideas. “We could bring the neon lights into too, if the rest of the team thinks that’s doable.”

Dan grins and nods, typing Phil’s thoughts out on their Master Document for Miscellaneous Visions (Phil had appropriately titled it and was just a little bit proud of the giggle that it encouraged from Dan). “That would be so cool. We’ll make everything have this cool cyber-core, 80s neon vibe.” Dan absently cracks his knuckles, “We should do an update email with the team and send them what we have so far, so they can work on their end of it.”

Phil’s fingers are flying across his own keyboard. His brain is running away from him, because now he can really visualize this thing. “Already working on it, Danny—” Phil freezes. “Er, uh.” There’s silence for a moment where Phil doesn’t dare look at Dan’s face.

Despite how well these two weeks have gone, they are definitely _not_ on a nickname basis.

Especially not one that used to be Phil’s favorite go-to when waking Dan up in the morning. He’d softly shake Dan’s warm shoulder and whisper, _wake up, Danny, I miss you._ It became something of an inside joke between them, and there’s no way that Dan has forgotten. Phil shakes his head.

It feels like something is lodged in Phil’s throat. “Nevermind,” he mumbles.

Out of the corner of his eye, Phil sees how tense Dan’s shoulders are.

Phil finishes typing his email to their team and wordlessly shows Dan. Phil still doesn’t make eye-contact.

“Looks good,” Dan murmurs. “Send it.”

Phil does what he’s told. Now if his brain could follow suit, that would be great.


	7. Chapter 7

Upon arriving home, Tom immediately picks up on his angst as per usual.

“What did Dan do today?” Tom asks, seemingly without looking up from the game of PUBG he’s playing in their living room. He’s only wearing pants and one of Phil’s old shirts. Phil rolls his eyes at the sight. No wonder everyone in the world things they’re secretly shagging.

“How do you even know something happened?” Phil sets his laptop on their counter and sits next to Tom, tucking frigid toes under Tom’s warm thighs.

“West! West! He’s heading— fuck yeah! Nice headshot, mate.” Tom briefly glances at Phil after a loud, congratulatory whoop. “You closed the door grumpily.”

“How’d I close the door—” Phil sighs, the fight draining out of him immediately. “You know me too well.”

“You drive, I shoot. They’re heading toward the ruins. Go, go, go.” Tom pries his eyes away from the screen while his partner drives them through the game’s map. “Which is why, hilariously, Dan and the rest of the world thinks we are dating.” He chuckles. Phil had told Tom about Dan’s assumption the day it happened. Tom was more amused than Phil considered necessary. “So what’s up?”

“Nothing too bad,” Phil starts. As per usual when it comes to Dan, he’s being dramatic. Phil wishes he didn’t catastrophize at the simple mention of his ex. He would be saved a lot of misery. “He wants me to come over his flat which feels…” Phil can’t seem to find the right word for how it feels. Scary? Hazardous to his health?

Tom’s returned his attention to the TV when shots being to ring out, but Phil can tell he’s still listening. “Why his place?”

Phil groans and presses his palms into his eyes, “Because we can’t really practice our script at Starbucks and it makes more sense. I kind wish I had beaten him to the punch and asked him to come here but I’ve been putting off seeing him in a less, I dunno, neutral space?”

Tom nods sagely, while mashing at the keys of his laptop and shooting at the last player on the map. If their positions were switched, he wouldn’t be able to provide emotional support to his best friend while playing a leet game of PUBG. Phil is mildly impressed. “You know you can still ask him to come over here. Tell him you’re in the midst of filming a video or something.”

Phil hums and considers it. Does he even feel better about Dan coming over their flat? “Will you be around tomorrow?”

He delivers the kill shot and pumps his fist in the air, “YES! Fuck yes! That was beautiful, absolutely textbook game. Blood fucking hell.” Tom takes the headphones off his ears and lets them rest around his neck. “Sorry, Philly. Yeah, I’ll here tomorrow. Doing this probably, except with more clothes if Dan’s going to be around.” Tom pats Phil’s knee. “Unless you want me to hang around in my pants and make him jealous because that would be hilarious.”

Phil’s heartbeat kicks up a notch. “Why would he be jealous?”

Tom just gives him an incredulous look. “No reason, of course. So what do you think?”

For a moment, Phil imagines Dan coming through the door of their flat. It would be absolutely surreal. Probably stranger than actually having a ghost in his apartment. But, it would be on Phil’s territory. He would have a mediator of sorts. Not that he’ll make Tom do that for him. But it wouldn’t feel so much like being a fish out of water. “Yeah, I would feel a lot better having him here. I’ll just tell him tomorrow I’m knee-deep in filming and rather wouldn’t leave my setup. He’ll understand that, right?”

“Dunno, maybe.” Tom gives Phil a shrug. “Sounds like a solid plan though. You should do it. Wanna go set up in the gaming room and play some PUBG together?”

Feeling slightly better about tomorrow, Phil agrees and follows Tom.

***

Phil decides that he doesn’t want to just outright lie about being knee-deep in filming, so the next day he sets up his camera in front of his bed, smooths out the iconic bedspread and decides to wing a video. He saw a “psychology test” on the internet the other day that would make good, quick content for his channel that’s been quiet since the Creator Summit. Despite not knowing where his channel is heading, Phil does actually want to stay relevant.

Phil ends up getting distracted by the filming, only realizing just in time that the whole point of this ruse was to keep Phil from having to go to Dan’s today.

He sends Dan an email, because Phil deleted Dan from his cell phone long ago and they haven’t exchanged numbers or anything (even the thought of that makes Phil’s stomach feel sour and unstable). He just has to hope that Dan actually keeps an eye on his email.

Phil watches back the footage that he has, thinking about how, in the past, he probably would’ve made this an interactive adventure, with badly photoshopped pictures of Captain America and sketches of him dressed in weird costumes. He would’ve spent days playing with all the editing knowhow he got from his time at York, making tiny alterations until it was perfectly imperfect.

Of course, he’ll add some of that playful editing in, but he knows he won’t go the lengths that he used to go. He’s just unmotivated. As Phil watches himself play a character on the LCD screen, he can’t help but feel bored. He looks forced and childish— from the button-up corgi shirt he’s got on, to the too-long fringe he’s been clinging to for the past five years.

Phil blinks, surprised at his own inner monologue. He used to be so carefree about this stuff. It used to be a hobby that he was lucky enough to make a job. Why does it feel so much like a burden lately?

He decides he needs a break to clear his head and pushes himself off his bed to scour the kitchen for sweets. His biscuits are gone, but now he’s got a stash of macaroons tucked in the cupboard behind the baking pans they almost never use. 11 AM is a perfectly normal time to have a macaroon or two.

He eats something like four macaroons over the kitchen sink with an ear trained toward the gaming room so Tom doesn’t catch him macaroon-handed and drag Phil on one of Tom’s runs. He can’t risk that again.

Phil safely eats his fill and tucks his hoard back in the cupboard. When he checks his phone for a response from Dan, he sees that there’s an email waiting for him in his inbox. From the looks of it, it seems like Phil will be hosting their meeting. The shot of anxiety that rushes through his body tells him just exactly how Phil feels about that.

***

Phil doesn’t know what to do when he answers the door later that afternoon and Dan is standing on the landing.

Phil forces himself to pretend to be nonchalant. “Hey, Dan, come on in. I’m just set up by the couch over here.” Phil gestures to his laptop and tall coffee mug set up on the coffee table. He had dithered on using the gaming room that he often uses as an editing space, but had ultimately decided that the living room felt like the safest option.

“K!” Dan replies brightly, pushing off his black shoes and the coat that confuses Phil because it looks like two different coats had a weird baby together. He says as much to Dan, proud of the laugh that Dan responds with.

Phil catches his gaze lingering on Dan’s socked feet because it looks too homey and intimate. Thankfully, Dan snaps Phil out of it. “Materino, you have too many fucking stairs leading up to your flat. I hate it.” Dan pushes the sleeves of his jumper up and dramatically fans himself.

Despite himself, Phil laughs. “Yeah, you’re right. They suck. I have to go down and up so many stairs just to get a takeaway.”

Dan groans sympathetically and collapses on the couch next to Phil. “Exercising for your food. Can’t relate.” Dan grins at him and Phil feels something warm grow in the pit of his stomach.

“Me either. Tom’s all about working out and tries to convert me every time he goes on his morning run.”

Phil swears he sees the light in Dan’s eye dim and his smile droop. Before Phil can really consider it though, Dan is whipping out his laptop and turning the conversation to work mode. They decide to go over the script in the way they couldn’t at Starbucks, seeing how jokes land and if anything sounds awkward.

Phil finds himself genuinely having fun. He can’t help but feel proud that they already have a fleshed-out script and a couple of light-hearted improv segments planned and ready to go.

“I mean, the internet constantly cyber-bullies me for being a furry and that hurts. It’s not even accurate and I absolutely _don’t_ have sloth bear suit with functional blinking eyes and seven different anthropomorphic facial expressions,” Dan recites, gesturing with his wide hands.

Phil smiles vaguely at the bit, but something is bothering him. There’s nothing wrong with using humor to connect with an audience, but Phil can’t help but feel something is missing.

When he first mentioned his idea of making a student survey and using the answers in the show, it was because he wanted things to feel relatable, but genuine.

“Hey, Dan,” Phil interrupts.

The persona drops like a stone and Dan looks back at Phil with an curious look.

“I think, uh. I like the jokes because everyone likes to laugh. What we have is great. But, I’d like to have a segment where we get really real, I think.” Phil goes to push his hair back, but finds that it’s already off his forehead. Dan makes a questioning noise.

“Like, I want to talk to the students about the first time that someone on YouTube told me to off myself and what that felt like. What that does to a person. I want to tell them about the armor I’ve had to build over the years. I want to answer their questions, too. I want this to have a lasting impression on at least one of them.” Phil lets out a harsh breath, surprised by his monologue.

Phil can’t categorize the look that Dan is giving him. Something about it is scary, like he’s looking straight through Phil’s skin and bones and can read his soul.

But there’s something soft in his eyes, too. Like he’s seeing something for the first time. “That’s a really good idea,” Dan says quietly. “I’ve got a ton to talk about with that too.” He huffs out a tired breath and sits back on the couch. He closes his eyes and leans back against the couch. “I wish I could talk about what it was like to be a closeted queer teen, reading comments from all these people calling me gay. Can you imagine how much that would help the closted kid in the audience?”

Phil freezes, physical tension holding his spine in place. This is dangerous territory. Dangerously close to subjects that split them up in the long run and cause Phil a lot of guilt and grief to this day. “Oh,” Phil whispers. “Yeah, me too.”

“Yeah, but. Public school and glass closets and all that.”

“Right.”

There’s a beat where Phil almost wishes he could take it all back and go back to the part where Dan was joking about his fursona.

Dan opens his eyes and looks straight into Phil’s eyes. “That was hard on us, wasn’t it?”

Phil can feel his heartbeat hammering in his ribcage. He nervously runs his hand through his hair. His hand knocks into his glasses and he straightens them on the bridge of his nose. “Yeah.” Phil hopes it comes off as dismissive as he meant it. He hopes Dan is done. He doesn’t want to have this conversation, especially when they’re supposed to be working. This stuff is long in the past, so why is Dan bringing it up?

“That’s all you have to say?” Dan doesn’t say it harshly. He’s still speaking quietly, as if raising his voice will shatter something. Shatter Phil, maybe. Phil definitely feels fragile in this moment.

Phil shrugs, suddenly a little put out. Dan really has no place to bring this up when they’re working. “Yes, that’s all I have to say. It’s in the past, Dan. We have a job to do now.”

Phil watches Dan’s facial expression turn cool. He hates that Phil’s the one that made the soft, open look fade. Dan grunts and pulls his iPad into his lap. “Right. ‘Course. So, what do you want to add?”

It takes a couple seconds to figure out what Dan is referencing. “Oh. Maybe a part of the show where the lights turn off and we cut the hijinks and just sit down and talk. We can ask for question submissions. You have that video series, Internet Support Group. Let’s do something like that.”

Dan hums and they continue to work.

A few hours later, Phil feels utterly exhausted. They’ve written a whole new segment and finished running through the script and editing awkward bits out. And they’ve done it all with minimal non-work related conversation.

On the one hand, this type of interaction with Dan is almost comforting. It’s easier and predictable than the heart to heart that happened before. On the other hand, Phil can’t help but feel they’ve taken one step forward and two steps back. And it’s his fault.

Phil realizes just as they pull up the document for the survey that it has grown dark outside and he is ravenous. He sees his chance to make things up to Dan.

“Hey, are you hungry?” Phil asks. “Because I’m starving and could go for some Domino’s or something right about now.” Phil used to buy Domino’s for Dan when he finished a particularly difficult test in one of his law courses. They’d cuddle up on Phil’s sofa and watch a Studio Ghibli movie together while gorging themselves with disgusting pizza. It’s a good memory. For once, Phil lets himself remember it.

Dan glances at his phone. “Oh, yeah I guess it’s gotten late. I don’t want to impose.”

That hurts. Dan’s formal, stiff tone is so wrong next to the fond memories filling Phil’s brain. “It wouldn’t be an imposition.” Phil waves his hand dismissively. “Besides, it’s tradition to have a bit of Domino’s when we’ve done something harrowing.” Phil smiles a little out of the corner of his mouth.

Dan hesitantly returns the smile. Phil can feel the warmth in his chest that little grin inspires. Suddenly Phil knows: sure, he doesn’t want to talk about the past with Dan. But he sure doesn’t want them to be distant, formal coworkers who can’t relax around each other. He wants them to be… friends.


	8. Chapter 8

The realization stops Phil short. But the more he considers it, the more he knows it’s true. They were the best of friends to begin with. Everything was easy with Dan. He’s hilarious and fun. Phil has seen glimpses of that over the past few weeks, and he wants it back.

Phil vows right there that he’s going to stop being prickly or stiff around Dan. He’s going to joke with him, laugh with him.

They order way too much pizza for three people, so Phil texts Tom to see if he wants in on the junk food debauchery, totally expecting his healthy flatmate to decline.

Tom: _dominos sounds like the right kind of nasty rn_

Phil: _ew what does that mean?_

Phil: _actually dont tell me. Ill just text u when the delivery man comes_

“Tom’s gonna help us tackle this mountain of food we just ordered,” Phil explains, pocketing his phone and learning over to watch Dan type out the next question on the survey.

Dan frowns. “You sure I’m not butting in?” He deletes and retypes the same word a few times.

Phil knocks his shoulder into Dan’s. “You can’t bail on me now. We just ordered a small child’s worth of food.”

Dan stops typing. “What the ever-loving fuck is a child’s worth of food?”

Phil grins. “Well, I imagine that the volume of the food is similar to the volume of a small child.”

Dan stares at him. Suddenly, he’s tossing his head back and laughing. Loudly and unabashed. Phil can’t help but feel happiness tingle under his skin. “You’re such a strange person!” Dan exclaims. Phil giggles in response, feeling weightless.

“We should take a work break.” Phil suggests suddenly. He wants to do something fun and lighthearted with Dan. If just to prove that they can. They don’t just have to be civil around each other. They can be friendly.

“Aren’t we gonna do that when the pizza comes?” Dan’s playful tone contradicts his question. That, and the fact that Dan quickly shuts his laptop and places it on the coffee table in front of him shows Phil he can be easily convinced.

“Eating doesn’t count as a break. We need to eat to survive. Have you ever played Overcooked?” Phil digs his switch out of the entertainment center.

Dan grins from ear to ear and tucks his socked feet under him on the couch. “Hell yes I have.”

***

Phil doesn’t know if it’s in the stars or in their genes, but the two of them make a fucking powerhouse team. They clean through several levels, earning three stars on every one they take seriously.

The ones that they don’t take very seriously— the ones where they make countless Gordon Ramsay jokes and Dan spends more time frantically repeating “Chop the lettuce!” to Phil, than actually filling orders— are the most fun for Phil. He can’t help but think of more lighthearted times when they’d spend days in their pajamas just playing a video game straight through together. Only taking breaks to eat and, well. Phil feels a blush crawling up his neck suddenly. He’s certainly _not_ going to think about sofa blowjobs at a time like this.

Tom comes into the room during a level that they are taking very seriously. He rests his elbows on the couch and digs his chin into Phil’s shoulder while he takes in the sight before him. Phil takes direction from Dan, and their characters slide around their digital kitchen, filling orders as fast are they’re placed. The end of the level ticks down and Dan and Phil bant back and forth to each other, rushing to get the final points needed for three stars. At the last minute, Phil sends the final bowl of soup through the kitchen window and they make the cut for the highest score.

Dan pumps his fists in the air, letting the tiny switch controller drop to his lap. “Phil fucking Lester you are the motherfucking sous chef master!” Dan turns to face Phil, hand up for a high five, and makes eye-contact with Tom. His eyes catch on Tom’s hands draped across Phil’s chest.

Dan’s stops in the middle of his sentence and his hand deflates a tiny bit. “Oh hey, Tom.” Phil doesn’t know if he should complete the high five, but he doesn’t like to leave anyone hanging. The end result is a tad flaccid.

Tom picks himself off the back of the couch and ruffles Phil’s hair. Dan’s eyes follow the movement. “Phil doesn’t play _that_ well when we’re together.” Tom rounds the corner of the sofa and, to Phil’s surprise, plants himself between Dan and Phil. “Why does Dan get your A game and I get your, like, X game, Philly?” Tom playfully sticks his elbow into Phil’s gut.

“You get my X game as in excellent.” Phil knocks back into Tom.

“Ok, I’m not much of a speller, but that doesn’t make any fucking sense.

“You make no fucking sense.” Dan subtly clears his throat and Phil realizes that he and Tom have gotten lost in their back-and-forth. “Anyway, uh. Dan and I just decided to take a break from work for awhile.” Phil glances over a Dan, who has a blank expression on his face. His hands are between his legs as if he is trying to take up the least amount of space possible.

Tom notices. Phil can tell he notices Dan’s discomfort. Instead of moving, he throws an arm across the sofa around Phil’s shoulders and spreads his legs a little wider. If Phil didn’t know Tom better, he would say Tom was marking his territory. “Breaks are good. I admire Phil for his knowing his limits. How goes the cyberbullying show?”

“Oh, yeah, good. We’re just getting everything finalized at this point. We’ve really banged out the whole thing together these past few weeks, right, Dan?” Phil’s voice wavers and he wishes he could subtly push Tom’s arm off the couch without it being really obvious. As it is, he’s trying to activate their psychic mind link and tell Tom to sod off.

Dan nods. “Oh yeah, we’ve been hustling. Only have a couple more days before we have to start rehearsing for real.”

“Lucky you to be able to work with Phil.” Tom says, changing the subject. “Modern society should marvel at the mind of Phil Lester.” Tom taps at Phil’s temple. Phil catches his roommate’s attention and tries to psychically ask him what the fuck he’s playing at.

Thankfully, the buzzer goes off in the apartment then, alerting them to the arrival of the pizza delivery. “Domino’s!” Phil exclaims, trying to cut through the tension. “Tommy, why don’t you go get that for us?”

“Me?” Tom whines, “Why me? I swear it’s your turn, mate.” Despite his statement, Tom pushes himself off the couch.

“I don’t have legs,” Phil replies easily, sending him a sharp look as if to say _it’s because you’re a fuck. Also we are totally talking about this later._

The door closes behind Tom. “I’m gonna just…” Phil gets up. “Go get some plates and cups. Sorry, er.” Phil doesn’t exactly know what to say sorry for. Tom didn’t do anything. Didn’t say anything rude. “Sorry for Tom,” Phil finishes lamely, covering up his awkwardness by collecting the game controllers to put back in the entertainment center.

Dan doesn’t say anything.

Are they back to square one again?

More silence. And then—

“Sorry for bringing up our relationship earlier,” Dan blurts out suddenly. Alarmed, Phil whips his head around.

“Oh, uh. It’s… fine. Really. Already forgotten about it.” Phil stutters, going back to just pulling dishes out of the kitchen cupboard.

“You really don’t care?”

Phil jumps out of his skin, because Dan’s question is murmured right behind him and he didn’t hear Dan sneak up on him. Phil spins around and comes seemingly face to face with Dan.

“What does that mean?” Phil wonders out loud. “I was just saying… I don’t— I’ve already— ” Phil groans, frustrated. Nothing is coming out right. Why can’t they just go back to playing Overcooked and making jokes? Why does Dan have to complicate everything? “Look, Dan. The way I see it is, we dated and it didn’t go well. We ignored each other for a really long time and have given each other enough shit to last a lifetime. Now, we just have to forget about the… I dunno, drama. We have this cool project we are working on and, well, I’d like to be friends again.”

Phil can’t seem to interpret the look on Dan’s face. There’s a lot of emotion there. He kind of wishes he could jump into Dan’s head and hear what’s going on.

“Not just for the sake of the show?” Dan asks.

“Not just for that. Like real proper friends,” Phil assures with a smile.

“I want to be friends too,” Dan finally says. There’s a small smile stretching his lips thin and the shadow of a dimple touches his cheek.

But his eyes are shining, as if he’s holding back tears. Phil can’t seem to figure Dan out. What’s got Dan looking like that?

Tentatively, Phil reaches out with the hand not holding the plates to lightly touch Dan’s bicep. If there’s one thing that Phil can’t handle, it’s seeing Daniel Howell sad. His big doe eyes and ability to cry at the drop of a hat has done Phil in on multiple occasions. There was a point in their relationship where Phil _knew_ Dan used it against him. A manipulation tactic that Phil couldn’t ignore, despite knowing exactly what Dan was doing.

Right now, though, Phil knows the sadness is real.

Dan’s arm is warm under the soft material of his jumper. There’s a moment where Phil desperately wants to feel the texture and temperature of Dan’s skin without the resistance of fabric. Phil chalks it up the muscle memory desire to help Dan not feel sad by any means necessary.

Tom takes that moment to burst through the door with armfuls of food. “Oi, lads, you better help me with this stuff because I’m about to fall over. How much fucking food did you order— oh!” Dan springs away from Phil at the same time that Phil snatches his hand away from Dan like he’s been burned.

“Don’t roast us for the amount of food we ordered,” Phil forces himself to recover first. He strides toward Tom and gives him a hand with the food. He catches Tom’s eye and holds it for a beat, hoping the message comes through loud and clear. Glancing back, Phil sees that Dan is frozen in his spot with a wild look in his eye.

Tom picks up on Phil’s cues to _please don’t you dare say anything about what you just walked in on_ . “Uhh, I’ll roast you all I want. Phil, you got two pizzas, chicken nuggets, french fries, _and cookies_. Even after helping yourself to several macaroons earlier today.”

Despite himself, Phil’s mouth drops open.

“Yeah you better believe I know about the 11 AM macaroons.” Phil and Tom dump their piles of food onto the coffee table.

“Does Phil still have a sweets problem?” Dan asks up from the kitchen. Phil can tell that Dan is trying hard to sound normal.

Tom laughs. “Mate, you don’t know the half of it.”

“Mm, I dunno. I might know a little more than you think. Does he still sneak candy home from Tesco and hide it in the baking pans? Does he buy kinder eggs from the shops to avoid awkwardly not buying anything when he can’t find the item he was looking for? Does he treat baking ingredients like candy?” Dan rounds the corner and takes his previous seat on the couch. Phil sits next to him.

Phil opens one of the pizza boxes and steals a slice, stuffing it in his mouth so he doesn’t do something embarrassing like help Dan reminisce or, worse, start sniffling because it’s sweet that Dan still remembers details like that all these years later.

Tom blinks at Dan. “Yeah, actually. Thanks for the tip about the baking pans. Sneaky, sneaky, Philly.” Tom scoops up one of the plates Phil brought from the kitchen and piles several pieces of pizza, nuggets, and fries onto it. “Well, I’ll see you lot later. I have a date with a little beta called PUBG.”

Phil is a little surprised that Tom is leaving them alone. He catches the sharp glint in his roommate’s eye before Tom disappears around the corner. Phil doesn’t know what to make of it.

Dan and Phil chew for a few silent seconds. Phil’s skin is tacky with nervous sweat. Is this an awkward silence? Phil is pretty sure this is an awkward silence.

Suddenly, a bone deep exhaustion washes over Phil. He’s gone through so many emotions today. This month. Enough to have aged him several years. “Are you alright, Dan?” Phil throws caution to the wind. Nothing ever came out of ignoring his problems or beating around the bush.

Dan clears his throat. “Course, I’m cool.”

“Because you—” Phil collects his thoughts. Just because he isn’t ignoring this doesn’t mean he has to say the first thing that comes to mind. “You looked a little sad back there. Are you sure you want to be friends again?” Phil whispers, as if it’s a dirty secret. “I’d understand if you really can’t.”

Dan scrubs a rough hand across his face, letting his pizza slice drop to the plate in his lap. “No, no. That’s not it. I wasn’t lying when I said that I want to be friends. I just want—” Dan seems to think better of his statement’s trajectory, “I’m just... sorry for being a twat to you.”

“Oh,” Phil looks down at his lap.

“Like, subtweeting you and criticizing you. That hurtful shit I said at the Creator’s Summit. I’ve just been a piece of shit to you because I was still angry about… the past.” Dan’s voice cracks.

There’s a burning in Phil’s throat. He wants to cry.

It feels good to hear Dan apologize. Really good. It’s almost as if the Phil of six years ago is the one receiving Dan’s apology. “I’m not blameless in this situation,” Phil tentatively places gentle fingers against Dan’s knee, ignoring the tantalizing burn of flesh through ripped jeans. “I said my share of hurtful shit. And, you were right, I really did everything I could to avoid you throughout the years.” Phil squeezes Dan’s knee. “We were both shit heads.”

Dan smiles sadly. “We were. And, and—” he covers Phil’s hand with his own. It’s wide and warm. Phil meets Dan’s gaze. Phil simultaneously wants to tell Dan to leave it— let them eat pizza in peace and watch something mindless on the TV— and encourage Dan to just spit it out. Whatever it is. Dan’s warring with himself and Phil doesn’t know which side he’s on.

“Look,” Dan breathes in slowly, then speaks quickly like he has a time limit. “I know you don’t want to talk about our breakup and. I get it. But, I want to apologise for that too. I was young and scared and closeted and hot-headed and, fuck, a thousand more synonyms for stupid. But I should have never backed out of our lease or cut off all contact with you. That has to be,” Dan pauses as if calculating, “in my top three most stupid decisions of my life. Up there with law school. And chemically straightening my hair.”

Phil is shocked. He can’t do anything but stare at Dan, eyes flicking between his eyes as if trying to determine if Dan is telling the truth.

“I think I’ve been so angry with myself that I took it out on you.” Dan lets out a long breath as if it has taken everything out of him to apologise to Phil. And, hell, it probably has.

Still, Phil has no idea what to say. Dan is breaking open old wounds and it’s like Phil can feel each stitch over the wounds pop one by one. Dan regrets his actions six years ago?

His heart hammers an uncomfortable rhythm in his chest and he sees black clouds marr the edges of his vision. Phil focuses on breathing evenly while he formulates a response. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem that Phil can grasp at a single word while they’re all frantically hurtling around in his skull.

Phil opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. But it doesn’t matter because Dan is already getting up, letting Phil’s hand slide off his knee. “Where are you going?” Phil asks. He can’t must much more than a whisper.

“I think I need to go.”

Phil’s heart plummets into his stomach and he feels sick. How can Dan drop this bomb on Phil and then leave? It feels too familiar. “I don’t want you to,” Phil says, completely miserable. “How can you say this stuff to me and just leave?” Phil can hear the hurt and confusion in his own voice, but he can’t bring himself to feel sorry for it. Not even after an apology like that.   

“How can you say nothing after I lay everything out for you?” Dan fires back.

“You have to give— I just need a minute. You haven’t let me process anything.”

Dan scratches his neck harshly, leaving little gouges in the smooth porcelain. Phil fixates on the sight. He looks like he’s going to bolt any second. Phil knows these next few seconds are important. What he says decides if Dan flees or lingers.

“I,” Phil starts. He speaks slowly as if through a mouth of syrup. “I accept your apology.” Dan looks down, startled. Phil reaches up and pulls down on Dan’s sleeve. He falls to the sofa easily. “Ok? I do.” Phil is more than surprised to find that his words are true; he is ready to accept Dan’s apology. “It’s not all your fault, of course. We were both young and impulsive. I considered myself your savior and I kept all my issues bottled up and that could never be sustained.” Phil lets out a long breath, trying to keep it together. Trying not to panic and let his fight or flight response take over.

“And then… yeah, I just avoided you. I got more and more anxious about seeing you. I didn’t reach out, when it was entirely in my power to make amends.” Phil squeezes Dan’s shoulder. “Hell, if I had just put myself out there, we probably could have gotten back together.”

Dan whips his head around and his eyes widen. “What?”

Phil starts sweating, immediately wishing he could take it back. “Nothing, it’s in the past.”

Dan’s flexes his jaw. “Can we just lay it all out? It would be easier to get over all this junk if… you’re just honest with me.”

Phil feels a little ashamed. He just admitted to keeping everything bottled up and is doing it again. “I… considered reaching out to you by any means necessary. Going all romantic comedy on you. Apologising. Trying to make things work again. I got really close a couple of times but—” The entirety of Phil’s body is rejecting this train of thought. This conversation. He feels hot and sweaty, head floating. It almost feels out of body because he would have never dreamed of having this conversation in a million years. He hasn’t fallen into an alternate universe, has he?

“But?” Dan prompts, with a soft nudge of his shoulder.

“Well. You made it pretty clear you didn’t want to hear from me. You left my calls and texts right after the fight unanswered. You deleted your Skype profile. I just gave up.”

Dan groans, leaning over the couch and pressing his palms into his eyes sockets. “I was a right twat. Fuck, Phil. Who let 18 year old Dan get a boyfriend?”

Despite the tension and hurt, Phil chuckles and reaches out to touch Dan’s back, tentatively spreading his fingers and resting his palm against its surface. It’s warm and broad and he wants nothing more than to wrap Dan in a hug. “We were both dumb.”

He can’t believe how quickly things have made a 180. Was it only a few hours ago that Phil was counting down the seconds that Dan could leave? Now they’ve poured their hearts out to each other.

“So, uh. Not to ruin the moment,” Phil begins. “But, we do have a metric shit ton of food that is getting cold right now. Unless there’s more you want to get off your chest?”

Dan leans back and gives Phil a small smile. “Um, no. Except—” Phil has picked up his discarded slice of pizza, but he lowers it before he can take a bite. “Except I really do want to be friends again.” Dan pauses, “you were my best friend.”

Something painful and thin slices through Phil’s heart in that moment. What he and Dan had was special, a once-in-a-lifetime friendship that he was determined would stand the test of time. And then they lost it. He let it slip through his fingers. Can they ever get that pure companionship back? Or is it gone forever?

Phil feels a profound loss, a pressure in his chest that pushes at his heart. He wants to cry, wants to scream, wants to laugh. Wants to push Dan away, hug him, punch him, kiss him.

“You were mine too, Danny.” Phil whispers sadly, so quiet he’s not sure that Dan can even hear him.


	9. Chapter 9

Phil has a terrible night’s sleep. His mind won’t _shut up_ , despite the fact that he’s happy with how his evening turned out. But he’s playing their conversation over and over in his head, analyzing every word and echo of emotion flitting across Dan’s face. He’s wondering what this means for the future. Will they really stay friends after Stop, Speak, Support? Will they hang out together? Make videos together?

And then there’s the tiny little voice in the back of Phil’s head telling him he’s made the wrong decision, because there’s no way that Dan was being honest.

Phil does his best to push that niggling suspicion out of his head. What would Dan possibly get out of tearing his own heart out of his chest and laying it all out in front of Phil?

When the sun creeps over the horizon outside Phil’s window, he has only dozed off and on a couple times the whole night. His legs ache with restlessness and the beginnings of a headache pulse behind his left eye.

Groaning aloud, Phil presses hard against his eyes and tries to assess if he needs to take one of his prescription headache pills. He’d rather not replace the head pain with nausea if he can help it.

Phil pushes his on glasses, peels himself from his bed, and pads to the kitchen to fill a giant glass with ice cold water.

He can’t quite figure out how he feels, except a little miserable for spending the whole night thinking. Maybe he just needs to process through things. Phil glances at the clock on the wall, trying to tell if it’s too early to wake Tom up. Especially on Tom’s only day off from his morning run.

It’s never too early as long as Phil brings a peace offering. He busies himself with making Tom a cup of _nice_ coffee— bypassing the kettle and instant powder for the french press.

When Phil sneaks into Tom’s room, he’s pleased to find that his roommate is actually already awake, reading something on his kindle.

“Hey Tommy boy, I brought you coffee.” Phil slips through the door, into Thomas’ still-dark room.

“Oh dear, what do you want from me?” Tom holds out his hand and takes the cup, peering suspiciously over the rim at Phil.

Phil sits against the headboard on top of the blankets still warm with sleep. “Hey, can’t I just do something nice for my best buddy?”

Tom takes a sip of the coffee Phil has brought him. He groans, “No, it’s our good coffee. You definitely want something.”

Phil spends a moment feeling the softness of Tom’s blankets. “Well, kinda, I guess. I just wanted to talk. If that’s ok. Dan apologized.”

Tom chokes. “Dan did what?”

“Apologized.” Phil almost feels proud in a way. Satisfied that Tom’s been shocked. Why? Phil doesn’t think about it; he just launches into the full story.

Afterwards, Tom is quiet for a long moment.

When he speaks, his voice is hard. “He apologised, just like that?”

“Just like that.”

Thomas quirks his eyebrow up, a deep frown carved into his mouth. “And you _accepted_ his apology just like that? After everything?”

Phil prickles at the scrutiny. “Well, yeah,” Phil says like it’s obvious, “I don’t like holding grudges. He apologized; why wouldn’t I accept it?”

Tom studies Phil’s face. He’s quiet for a long, drawn out moment. The sound of London traffic is audible outside their flat. Suddenly, Tom tosses his hands in the air and snaps, “Are you fucking kidding me, Phil? He fucking walked out on you. Did nothing to rectify it. Spent years and years talking shit about you. And he waltzes in, flashes his pretty brown puppy-dog eyes and makes you laugh and you’re mental for him again?”

Phil has a tight grip on Tom’s duvet. Usually, he’d be under the covers, leeching off Tom’s warmth. He’s glad now that they have some distance. Hot anger and guilt bubbles under the surface of his skin. “That’s not what this is. I haven’t gone mental for him. I just— I’m fucking tired, ok? It’s not in me to be angry at anyone for this long.”

Tom growls, “Ugh, you’re so fucking blind. You’ve always been too easy on Dan. He deserves to feel some of the pain and discomfort he’s made you feel.”

“He’s experienced plenty of—”

“And you know, Phil, it’s _so_ easy for you to forgive him like that.” Tom snaps emphatically, “it’s not like _you_ had to pick up the pieces when his little twink ass broke up with you. _You_ didn’t have to feel responsible for not helping you sooner! _You_ didn’t have to play therapist every time you thought of him, saw his tweets, heard about him, started working with him!” Tom’s hands land on the bed with a heavy _thunk_. “Bloody hell, Phil, I can’t believe you just let him off scot free like that.”

Phil’s mind is reeling, but he’s not even thinking of Dan anymore.

Tom words echo in his head. Has he relied too much on Tom’s guidance and kindness and sympathy over the years? Even now, he’s run to Tom to suss things out.

Has Tom come to resent Phil and has never told him?

This feels like a bad dream. Guilt swirls in his stomach.

“Tom are— Do you actually feel that way about helping me?” Phil asks shakily. These last two days have been too much as it is, but now Tom’s adding a whole other layer. Phil pushes himself off the bed, tripping over the sheet coiled around his ankles.

Tom groans. “Wait, hold on, Phil. That’s not what I meant. You’re putting words in my mouth.” Usually, Tom’s green eyes are safe and comforting, but now they’re sharp like unweathered sea glass.

Phil ignores Tom. “I’m so sorry that I needed support from my best friend! I’m so sorry for thinking I could go to you about anything. Why didn’t you just tell me to lay off?” Phil kicks the sheets away from his legs, needing to get away from Tom immediately. “Just, fucking. Tell me instead of guilting me after the fact. Fuck!” Phil growls.

Phil stomps down the hallway, knowing he’s acting like a child and feeling powerless to stop himself.

Silence meets him in the living room.

For the first time in a long time, Phil feels utterly alone.

Tom has always been there to lend a listening ear and help him out. They’ve never fought. Who is Phil supposed to go to?

Against his better judgement, Phil fishes around in his pocket, pulling out his phone and texting the newly added number in his contacts.

Phil: _Want to play more overcooked?_

Is it smart to see Dan when Phil feels like a lidded pot on the cusp of boiling over? Probably not. But Phil’s going to go crazy if he stays in the flat with Tom. If he stays in the flat and thinks endlessly about sleepless nights and Tom and Dan and fighting and apologies and guilt and regret and years of spite and and.

Phil’s phone chimes.

Dan: _mine or yours?_

Phil: _yours. definitely._

_***_

Dan is a sight for sore eyes.

He answers the door, curly hair fluffed and messy, sporting game of thrones pajamas and an oversized cat astronaut shirt. He looks warm and cuddly and Phil wants to reach out and hold him.  

These thoughts stop Phil short. Fuck, maybe he shouldn’t have come.

“Hey, Phil, are you ok?” Dan asks, raising his eyebrows nonjudgmentally. Phil wonders what Dan sees. He hadn’t slept well the night before. He hadn’t straightened or styled his overgrown hair. He’d only thrown on some joggers and his coziest knitted jumper before heading out the door.

Phil toes off his shoes, staring at Dan. Dan who looks unguarded and soft and safe and warm.

How can it be that Phil’s opinion of Dan has flipped so drastically?

Where did Phil’s comfortable anger towards Dan go? He wants it back, almost. Almost.

“Phil? You’re scaring me a bit. Everything ok?” Dan’s stupid fucking bambi eyes stare back at him, glittering and sad. Phil wants to crawl into their chocolate layers and fall asleep. He wants to dig his fingers into Dan’s skin. He wants to have a breakdown in front of Dan. He wants Dan to take care of him like Phil took care of Dan years ago, time and time again.

Phil shoves every dangerous, invading thought out of his head. “I’m… ok. Sorry. Had to get out of the flat. Downside of working from home.”

Dan’s face smooths and he gives Phil a tentative smile. “Oh man, don’t I know about that. My therapist yells at me when I don’t leave the apartment for days on end. Not great for the brainerino.”

Phil returns Dan’s smile.

They play hours of Overcooked, working their way through level after level. Dan compensates for Phil’s low mood, screeching when they do something wrong and making up background stories for side characters. Dan only has a small, two-person sofa, so his knee presses warm and solid against Phil’s thigh. It’s a distracting comfort. Phil feels his spirits begin to lift.

Dan lives alone. His flat is small, but nice. And it's modern, monochrome decor looks like it fell directly out of a fancy design catalog. But tall windows allow natural light to filter through the living room and the flat is warmed by a row of radiators against each wall. It feels like a hug in flat form. Phil wonders why he ever worried about coming over.

When the sun outside Dan’s large windows is high in the sky, Dan offers to order them food. Phil knows he should say no. Knows that this whole situation is dangerous. He’s not keeping his distance. He’s not pushing away the thoughts or memories. He’s playing house and it’s wonderful and perfect and painful. But he doesn’t want to stop.

The debate in Phil’s mind is over in a split second and he takes Dan up on his offer. Dan gets them burgers and milkshakes. Phil pulls a fluffy throw blanket off Dan’s couch and pulls it over his body. They eat their fill while watching The Walking Dead, only after a brief, heated discussion over whether or not it’s disgusting to eat burgers while watching gory zombie tear at human flesh.

Dan curls up on the opposite side of the sofa, feet brushing against Phil’s thighs. Dangerous, dangerous.

Phil falls asleep at some point, belly full and body warm under Dan’s blanket. The spicy smell of Dan surrounds him and Phil feels perfectly content.

He dreams in memories.

***

Phil has no idea how long he has slept when he groggily opens tired eyes and straightens the glasses perched on his nose. Dan is awake and playing on his switch at the other end of the sofa, supporting Phil’s feet on his lap. Embarrassed, Phil pulls them off.

Dan glances at Phil, “Morning, sleeping beauty. Good thing you wore your glasses here.”

Phil blinks, trying to remember exactly why he’s fallen asleep at Dan’s flat. There’s a blissful, if but confusing, moment when Phil can’t recall. But then.

Tom.

Phil forgets to respond to whatever it is that Dan has said, head instead filled with guilt.

“So, Phil.” Dan pauses whatever game he’s playing and faces Phil. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

Phil blinks yet again and shakes his head, worried that if he speaks, he will cry.

Disappointed, Dan absently cleans the glass on the console in his hands. “Ah.”

Phil studies Dan’s profile, taking note of the familiar features. The various little beauty marks, the rosy patch right by his jaw, the striking collar bones. He notices new things, too. The sharper edge of Dan’s jaw and the more pronounced adam's apple protruding against Dan’s neck. The broader shoulders, the thicker bicep.

_He waltzes in, flashes his pretty brown puppy-dog eyes and makes you laugh and you’re mental for him again?_

Phil starts when he realizes that Dan is currently studying him, curiosity coloring his eyes. Phil’s first instinct is to pretend he wasn’t staring at Dan, but he ignores it.

Phil’s tired. Literally and figuratively. His body and mind are tired because of the lack of sleep. But he’s emotionally and spiritually tired of the mental Olympics it has taken to deny to himself that Tom is right.


	10. Chapter 10

It feels a little bit like time is frozen. Phil wonders what Dan is thinking as he openly stares back at Phil.

“Phil?” Dan asks softly. “Do you— Would you—” Dan starts and stops, as if considering exactly how he should frame his question for fear of shattering Phil to pieces. “You seem so sad. Can I hug you?”

Phil’s heart beats faster and his stomach flips. Slowly, he nods, wanting nothing more than to be enveloped in Dan’s warmth. He hasn’t forgotten just how perfect Dan’s hugs are. How soft.

Dan leans forward over Phil’s knees and gently circles his arms around Phil’s neck. Phil returns the embrace, palms pressing into Dan’s broad back. Warmth and tingles flood into Phil’s body, starting at his neck and moving downwards. They take a pitstop at Phil’s chest, stomach, and groin. Phil lets himself feel the sparks.

Despite how nice it feels, the hug itself is terribly awkward with Phil still laying against the arm of the sofa. He can feel Dan’s muscles tremble trying to hold himself up. Phil wonders what would happen if he just tugged.

Dangerous thoughts. Dangerous lack of Phil’s usual mental guards, stopping him from doing ridiculous things like texting Dan, visiting Dan’s flat, falling asleep next to Dan, hugging Dan.

Pulling Dan down so he presses up against Phil’s chest.

Dan lets out a soft _oof_ , but goes easily. Phil basks in the increased warm and comforting weight of Dan on top of him.

Fuck, _Dan on top of him_.

This is one thousand kinds of stupid. They’ve only just decided to be friends again; Phil can’t fuck it up by following his heart and the wrong kind of head.

But it feels so _good_. Phil hasn’t been in anything serious since things ended with Dan. He’s focused too much on work and gaining views and finishing projects. There haven’t even been many flings or one night stands.

For this reason— or maybe Phil is only explaining away his reaction— the effect of Dan’s body on top of his own is instantaneous. The tightening in Phil’s pants makes him happy that there’s a blanket over his lap and he has no lower body contact with Dan.

“Are you really ok, though?” Dan asks, his breath tickling the tiny hairs on Phil’s neck. He picks his head up and stares down at Phil, eyes flitting between Phil’s eyes and lips. “You don’t seem yourself.”

It would take nothing at all to meet Dan’s lips with his own. Phil badly wants to know if those plush lips feel the same all these years later. Phil imagines that kissing Dan would be absolute bliss right now. He wants to feel protected and liked. But this is one decision that Phil knows he can’t make impulsively.

Phil tightens his grip on Dan and nods, “I’m ok. Tom and I just—” Phil stops as Dan tears himself away from Phil.

“Oh, Tom.” Dan pull his shirt down and runs a hand through his curls.

With Dan’s suddenly absence, Phil feels cold. “He and I just had a fight.”

“So you _are_ dating?” Dan asks, jaw tightening. “And, what, you just came to me to— to—”

“Dan,” Phil says, pushing himself up and laying his hand firmly on Dan’s shoulder. “Tom and I aren’t dating. We’re just friends. I already told you that.”

“You look like you’re dating.” Dan argues feedibly. “You’re close to each other and he knows everything about you and he was acting awfully jealous of me yesterday. And, look, Phil, if I’m just a tool to you to make Tom jealous then I don’t think—”

“That’s really what you think?” Phil interrupts, pushing himself off the sofa. He feels too vulnerable laying down. “No, Dan. I’m not fucked in the head. Tom’s just… a little pissed at me.”

Dan is frowning deeply. “Is it about me?”

Phil almost says no. Almost. But he reminds himself that he’s trying to be more honest. “Yeah,” Phil sighs, “It’s about you. Turns out Tom is better at holding grudges than I am.”

Dan’s spine relaxes and his head tips back on the couch. Phil is distracted by the long, pale collum of neck now on display. He wonders if it’s still as sensitive as it’s always been. “I probably deserve that,” Dan rubs his hands across the surface of the couch.

Phil shakes his head. “You don’t. It takes balls to tell someone you’re sorry and admit that you’ve been wrong. Especially after so long, and especially after I was a dick right along with you. I forgave you, Dan, and so should Tom.”

Dan smiles tentatively, showing off his dimple. “You’re actually too good of a person, Phil Lester.”

Phil’s chest swells at the compliment and he returns Dan’s smile. His finger itches to sink into Dan’s dimple, but he holds back. “Tom would agree with you.” Phil sighs, “he’ll get over it.”

Phil doesn’t mention the other part of his fight with Tom. The actual part that bothers him more than anything. Because that’s something Phil and Tom have to work out on their own.

For now, Phil knows what he wants. “Alright Howell, come back here and give me that hug that you so cruelly stole from me and then I want a Mario Kart rematch. That time in Spain was a fluke.”

***

Tom is at the dinner table eating a salad when Phil gets home a few hours later, because of course he is. If it were Phil, he’d probably be eating chocolate cake by the handful.

Phil feels like he is on cloud nine because for the first time in six years, everything feels ok with Dan. He’s done overthinking their conversations and doubting Dan’s apology. Those thoughts have been replaced with warm echoes of long, drawn out hugs and breathless laughter in front of a game of Mario Kart.

Phil rounds the table and sits next to Tom.

Thomas opens his mouth to speak, but Phil beats him to it. “I think you’re right. I think I’m fucked for Dan. Again. But I also think that he’s genuinely sorry and that it is better for me to accept his apology and for us to move past it. But I’m really upset at you for not telling me that I was unloading on you too much. That makes me feel embarrassed and guilty.”

Tom opens and closes his mouth like a fish, staring wide-eyed at Phil. Even Phil doesn’t know what’s gotten into him, except a strong desire to be better. To do better. Be more honest and considerate of other people’s feelings.

“Shit, Phil. I’m sorry for not being happy for you. And I’m sorry for making you feel like you shouldn’t have been coming to me about stuff. I don’t mind hashing things out with you. I guess…” Tom scratches his chin, right where a light blonde dusting of scruff is growing in. “I guess I didn’t expect my reaction to seeing Dan to be so visceral.”

Tom pauses and Phil looks back with genuine curiosity. “I see him,” Tom continues, “and just think about you shutting yourself away for days and crying. I think about you showing up at my dorm asking me through tears if I needed a roommate because Dan pulled out at the last minute. I think about how much he hurt you.”

Phil dives forward and pulls Tom into a tight embrace. Tom’s been with him through it all. No wonder he thought Phil was crazy for letting go so easily.

Tom hugs back before continuing, “I’m glad you can forgive Dan. I… I don’t think I’m there yet. I’ll try.” Tom presses his nose into Phil’s neck. Phil feels wetness there and realizes that sometimes a person doesn’t have to directly hurt you to leave scars. Dan left scars in his wake and everyone has to heal on their own time.

Tom and Phil part. Phil holds Tom’s shoulders tight.

“I’m glad we talked,” Phil says.

Tom quirks one side of his mouth up. “Me too. Now what’s this about being fucked for Dan?”

Phil’s eyes widen, realizing that, yes, that did come out of his mouth. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Not a bit.” He stands quickly, looking around the room for a distraction. “Have any more of that salad?” Shit, not convincing.

Tom laughs. “Not working, Phil. Sit the fuck down and tell me why you think it’s a good idea to develop feelings for your ex-boyfriend and six-year nemesis.”

“Oh would you look at the time? Gotta go edit that video!” Phil says instead, dashing out of the room. They are joking around, sure, but Phil knows that if he’s not quite yet ready to think about this, he’s certainly not ready to talk to Tom about it. Plus, he actually does have a mediocre video to go edit.

***

Dan and Phil spend their next week mostly in Dan’s flat, finalizing all of their plans, scripts, surveys, and requests for props, lighting, and costuming. It’s a whirlwind, but it’s probably the most fun Phil’s ever had with another person. Amongst all the work and stress over the fact that their first show is drawing ever closer, they eat mountains of takeaway, reminisce, play video games, and watch entirely too much of the Great British Bake Off.

And, if Phil didn’t know any better, he would say that they flirt more and more everyday. Exchanging fond looks, making fun of each other mercilessly (and consensually), sharing innocuous touches. Phil’s always been tactile, clawing and pawing at the people he likes. Over the years, this habit has died down somewhat. But something about Dan revives the need to touch.

Phil doesn’t do a lot to stop the flirting, but he’s pretty sure nothing is going to come out of it. That wouldn’t be smart, would it?

Before Phil knows it, it’s the Friday evening before their rehearsals start. After sharing a takeaway, he’s convinced Dan to print out everything they’ve been working on for the past three weeks because he wants to truly visualize the scope of their accomplishment.

“You owe me a stack of paper and a pint of printer ink.” Dan grumbles, spreading their script out on the floor of his living room.

“Shut up, it did _not_ take a pint of ink. Look, isn’t this satisfying?” Phil gestures to the floor.

Dan looks at him with an unimpressed look. “You disturb me.” Despite his words, he continues spreading their work out on the floor.

“Well, I’m satisfied.” Phil smiles. It’s true. He’s proud of the two of them. For the first time in awhile, he feels like he’s done something impressive and lasting and creative. It feels like the old days when Phil first started YouTube and had fun with everything he did. When he was proud of his subscriber count and proud of everything he produced.

Nowadays, it’s very rare for Phil to feel this way. He wants to bask in it.

He wants to figure out how to make it last.

“You know,” Phil starts, “this is the first thing that I’ve done in awhile that I am truly happy with.” Phil chews on the dry skin hanging of the corner of his lip. He chuckles self deprecatingly. “You really hit the nail on the head at the Creator’s Summit when you told me I was pretending and desperately trying to stay relevant.”

Dan grimaces and pushes himself off his knees. “Fuck, I’m such an asshole. Your channel is fine, Phil.”

Phil shakes his head. “Nothing I do anymore feels genuine enough or creative enough. I have a crisis every time I try to post something.”

“Hey, don’t steal my branding. Crises are property of Daniel Howell. Thus the death of danisnotonfire.” Dan grins, elbowing Phil in the stomach.

Phil smiles back, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “But it’s true, though. I have a crisis every time I look in the mirror and see my stupid fringe, for fuck’s sake.” Phil pushes his fingers through the mop on his hair. It hasn’t cooperated for months and Phil hates the style. It’s way too long but he keeps putting off cutting it because he has two choices: keep the haircut he’s had for a billion years or try something new and risk everyone hating it.

Dan studies Phil’s head, calculating. “I like how you have it now.” He reaches up, pushing it further off Phil’s forehead. “You wear it like this all the time. I thought you had already changed it.”

Phil frowns. “I’ve just been doing whatever I need to do to keep it out of his eyes. But yeah, I’ve thought about wearing it more like this. A quiff.”

Dan’s hand travels from the top of Phil’s head down. Dan’s fingers graze his ear. He shivers. “I think you should embrace the quiff. Bring on the Quiffening.” He smiles and Phil’s heart melts. The full wattage of a true Daniel Howell smile is truly something else. His eyes are so soft and kind. And Phil just barely keeps himself from squeezing at Dan’s cheeks.  “It looks good,” Dan nods appraisingly. “I’m going to call my hairdresser.”

Phil blinks, “Uh?” He cards a hand through the hair in question.

“What? I get my haircuts in my apartment.”

“No, I mean. I’m doing this today? Now?”

“No time like the present, Philip.” Phil must look terrified. “Just trust me? You deserve to look snazzy for our tour across the UK. You can’t look busted for the children of England.”

Phil laughs. He assesses his anxiety levels. Is he freaking out about the prospect of getting an off-the-cuff haircut right now?

He looks out over Dan’s hardwood floor, seeing the proof of what can come out of being pushed out of his comfort zone. His gut is bubbling with fear, but he needs a change. He trusts Dan not to lead him astray.

What a weird thought. Trusting Dan. Phil wants to see what himself from two months ago would have to say about that.

“The Quiffening.” Phil murmurs. “Ok, bring on the Quiffening.”

***

Dan’s hairdresser, Kolby, is not very talkative. Phil can’t tell if he appreciates it or would welcome the distraction from his own frantic thoughts. He can’t lie to himself; it’s downright terrifying to watch a small dog’s worth of hair falling off his head every time the hairdresser’s clippers pass by. Even the buzz that the fills the room makes Phil’s blood run cold. God, what if he looks like a massive tosser and everyone unsubscribes from AmazingPhil when they see that his hair has changed? Phil knows how ridiculous that thought sounds, but he can’t help but feel that it just might happen. People unsubscribe for weirder reasons. And his hair has been a huge part of his whole brand thing. He’s _the guy with the hair on Youtube._

Phil stares at his own reflection with wide-eyes, unable to focus on much else except the unfamiliar form his hair takes as the hairdresser cuts it.

Phil looks sick with worry. Dan doesn’t leave his side or stop encouraging him.

“It’s gonna look so good, Phil.”

“Your cheekbones are going to look sharp enough to cut glass.”

“It’s already coming together.”

It helps. Even though Kolby must be so confused and weirded out, it helps. Phil does his best to ignore the anxious thoughts in his head and instead listen to Dan.

The clippers turn off and Phil feels his heart start to sink. It looks weird. Wet and stringy. Tuffs stick out and the sides are too short and the top will never sit properly and and.

Then Kolby starts to mist Phil’s hair with some kind of spray. Breathing deeply, Phil shakily asks for step-by-step instructions so he can recreate the quiff that is being sculpted. He follows along closely. Dan takes Phil’s shoulder in a steadying grip.

“Oh,” Phil says when it’s all said and done. “Oh.” He touches the pile of hair on his head, feeling the texture and patting it tentatively.

“I really…. like it,” he declares. And it’s true. Somehow his eyes look bluer, his jaw sharper, his mouth fuller. The hair compliments the angles of his face and he doesn’t hate how pronounced his forehead is.

Phil meets Dan’s eyes in the mirror. He’s grinning ear to ear. “Holy fuck, Phil, you look hot.”

A blush crawls up Phil’s neck, but he ignores the compliment because he doesn’t even know what to say to that. Instead, Phil glances back at his reflection. He looks like a thirty-year-old. There’s a little grey in the hair on the sides of his head and he can really see the wrinkles in his forehead.

He… actually likes it. Likes looking his age.

“Um,” Kolby clears their throat. “Glad you’re happy with the final product. Dan, you want me to just bill directly to your account?”

“Yep, that sounds good.” “Oh— no, I’ll just get my—” Dan and Phil say at the same time.

Kolby looks at both of them, a tiny smile on the corner of their mouth. “The both of you are too cute. I’ll bill you, Dan.” They begin to pack their tools into a black zip-up bag. “You two have fun, now.” Dan and Phil blink. Kolby winks and sees themself out of the apartment, leaving Dan and Phil alone in the bedroom.

Phil watches himself touch his hair, smooth down the sides, turn this way and that. “Fuck, I really love it,” he says.

Dan sticks his hand into the front and swishes at it. “Me too. You look dad af.”

Phil turns and grins up at Dan. “You’re good for me.” Dan stares, mouth slightly open. Phil looks right back, almost as if challenging Dan to disagree or agree or _something_. “I’m not kidding,” Phil continues. “I would have never done this on my own. You’ve always been good for me.”

Phil basks in the memories of Dan pushing him out of his comfort zone. Suggesting they Skype each other in the very beginning. Kissing Phil for the first time on the Manchester Eye. Planning trips together. Encouraging Phil to apply to video editing internships (and ultimately helping Phil decide to turn them down and take a chance with YouTube). Helping Phil take chances with his channel and content. If it wasn’t for Dan, Phil probably wouldn’t have continued with YouTube or reached out to the BBC about his radio show idea.

Dan smiles slowly at Phil, eyes shimmering. He dives forward and seals their lips together.


	11. Chapter 11

There are some things that the human body doesn’t forget. Riding a bicycle, typing on a keyboard, dialing your parent’s phone number.

Phil remembers kissing Daniel Howell like it’s only been days, instead of entire years. He remembers just exactly how Dan’s bottom lip fits, bracketed between his own. He remembers the soft feeling of Dan’s skin against his own. He remembers how it feels to slide his hands into Dan’s hair.

The silky curls between his fingers are new. The bite of stubble against his skin is new. The familiar and the new collide, sending sparks across Phil’s skin.

Dan fits himself between Phil’s knees and cradles Phil’s jaw in his hands. They come together again and again. Phil’s mind is blissfully blank.

Dan pulls Phil’s face away, leaving them close enough that Phil has trouble making out the features of his face. “How stupid would it be for me to blow you?” Dan whispers, sweet breath invading Phil’s space.

Phil, stomach flips and his eyes widen, but he can’t help but chuckle quietly. He leans forward to press another kiss against Dan’s addicting lips. “Pretty stupid, probably. Since you’re my ex and everything.”

“Hmm,” Dan responds. “Good point.” Contradicting his words, he opens his mouth partly, tongue brushing against the seal of Phil’s lips. Phil groans and mimics Dan’s actions. The first touch of Dan’s tongue against his own is fucking incredible. He tastes like crisp autumn air and laying on each other in the snow and stolen moments in a cramped little dorm. He tastes like reckless, stubborn, young love. Their kiss deepens and Phil scrabbles at Dan’s shoulders, pulling him as close as he can while Phil is sitting and Dan is leaning in between Phil’s legs. Dan bites Phil’s bottom lip, releasing it and immediately diving back to explore with his tongue.

Phil isn’t even thinking about how stupid this is, not really. Subconsciously, he knows that they have a professional project going and are about to go on a tour of the UK. That this is no time to fuck his ex boyfriend. Subconsciously, he knows that things between them have been so far from ok for years, and that if this crashed and burned, it would hurt more than the first time around ever did.

But consciously, Phil can only think about the fact that Dan remembers that Phil likes a little biting with his kissing. He can only concentrate on the feeling of Dan’s warm skin when Phil slips his hands under Dan’s t-shirt and digs his fingernails into Dan’s back. He can only focus on the desire to feel pleasure and pain and to make Dan feel pleasure and pain.

Dan must feel the same, because he whimpers when Phil scratches at his back. “Kinda want to pull you onto the floor and have my way with you,” Dan growls into Phil’s mouth.

Phil feels his dick twitch and he wants nothing more than to let Dan do that. “I want that, but I don’t know if you remember, Danny boy,” Phil kisses Dan because he just can’t help it, “but there’s a pile of my hair on the ground.”

Dan glances down and groans. He pulls himself away from Phil and stands. He looks around as if assessing his options. Asbently, he adjusts the bulge in his skinny jeans. Phil’s eyes are drawn to the movement.

“My eyes are up here, there Philip.” Dan smirks. He tugs Phil up and away from the pile on the floor, guiding him to the wall. Dan presses himself up against the length of Phil, forcing all of the breath out of Phil. “I don’t think I care about a little hair. Not when I have my hands on you.”

“Fuck,” Phil whispers. He grabs and handful of soft, silky curls and pulls Dan’s mouth back to his mouth. Dan responds by pushing his hand up Phil’s shirt and running his thumb over Phil’s nipple. Evil, dangerous Dan. He knows that part of Phil is especially erogenous. Phil grunts and whines when Dan circles the sensitive nub with his fingernails and pulls.

It’s immediately clear to Phil that Dan is playing a dirty game. Showing Phil that he hasn’t forgotten anything. That he still remembers all the things that make Phil melt into a puddle.

Two can play it that way.

Phil glides his mouth down from Dan’s mouth to neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses along the way. When he find himself at Dan’s neck, he attaches himself there and alternates between biting and sucking the smooth skin over Dan’s fluttering pulse. The effect is instantaneous. A harsh breath is punched out of Dan and his hips thrust forward. Phil smiles against the column of skin.

“Fuck off. You little self-satisfied prick,” Dan punctuates the name calling by reaching his other hand under Phil’s shirt and harshly pulling both nipples. Phil retaliates by sinking his teeth in. “Ohh,” Dan groans.

Phil finds that he has missed this kind of sex. Familiar, playful, a little mean. Phil soothes his bite with a gentle swipe of his tongue. He grabs Dan’s hands. “Sensitive,” he explains, placing Dan’s wide palms on his hips. Phil draws Dan’s chin in with a firm grip and they kiss, open-mouthed and hungry.

Dan’s hands twitch at Phil’s sides. Slowly, he slides a hand to Phil’s thigh. Their mouths part and Dan asks, “Can I… Can I touch you?”

Phil wants to immediately say yes and push Dan to his knees, but he suspects that he shouldn’t think only with his dick in this situation. His brain is a scary place, though, telling him all kinds of worst case scenarios and logical reasoning.

And what does his heart say?

Phil looks into Dan’s eyes, seeing insecurity and honesty there. Phil finds that It’s an inviting look. It wipes Phil’s memory of any coldness that used to camp out in Dan’s stare.

If Phil put a stop to this right now, he has the distinct feeling that he’d never get another chance. Something new and fragile would crumble to unrepairable pieces. In Phil’s heart, he knows he has to put himself out there again, because the alternative is never knowing what the new and fragile thing could blossom into.

Following his heart, Phil nods and replies, “Yes. Can _I_?”

Dan nods, then the hand on his thigh takes a firm hold of Phil’s bulge and squeezes. Phil’s knees buckle and he has to put his other hand against the wall to steady himself. There hasn’t been another person’s hand on Phil’s dick in… well a little while. And the fact that it’s _Dan’s_ hand on his dick is almost unbearable.

Dan massages Phil as best he can through skinny jeans. Then he makes it a thousand times better by popping open the button on Phil’s trousers and fitting his hand down into the front. He slides over the material of Phil’s cotton boxers. He presses the heel of his hand into Phil’s cock.

Phil moans into Dan’s mouth.

Phil seems to remember that he is supposed to also be touching Dan. He skips the over-the-trousers part and pushes Dan’s hips forward to yank his jeans down to his thighs. Dan snorts and looks down at the mess Phil’s made of his clothes. “ _Phil_ ,” he whines. “I was building things up.” Phil takes the break in kissing to pull his own trousers down, then he pulls their hips together and grinds hard into Dan. Brokenly, Dan says, “ _God_ , you’re a bull in a china shop.”

“Shh, less talking.” Phil responds, grinding up into Dan again. Their dicks moving together is such delicious friction. Phil feels like if he kept going, he could probably come like this. Right in his pants, with Dan’s tongue plundering his mouth.

But Phil doesn’t want it to end that way. And it seems that neither does Dan, because now he’s sliding down to his knees and looking up at Phil with wide, questioning eyes. The sight of Dan, older now, with this curlier hair and sharper jaw and confident way of holding himself, quite nearly makes Phil lose it right there. Instead he takes a deep breath and squeezes his eyes shut.

When he opens his eyes, Dan is smirking. “So… I know it’s stupid to blow you because you’re my ex and everything. But… you only live once, right?” Dan leans forward and breathes hot and moist against the front of Phil’s boxers.

“Don’t say yolo about putting your dick in my mouth, please.” Phil responds, without any heat. “But also, yeah.”

Dan presses his cheek into Phil’s cock, nuzzling it. “Is that a yes?” Dan asks sweetly, bringing his large hands up to massage into Phil’s thighs.

Phil licks his lips, “It’s a yes. Yes, please. Now?” Phil shakily pulls the waistband of his briefs down and frees his dick. He sighs with relief.

Dan eyes Phil’s length, then tentatively licks where his foreskin has pulled back to reveal a shiny tip. Phil is enraptured by the sight. “Well, since you said please,” Dan replies cheekily. Phil can’t even retort with something clever. He cradles that back of Dan’s head in his hand and reverently watches Dan’s mouth open and take the first couple inches of him into his mouth.

The wet pressure of Dan’s mouth is incredible. Phil’s knees shake and he inches down the wall, unable to hold himself up.

Dan pulls himself back off before going any deeper. He licks the tip again, and then slides all the way down with a suction that has Phil’s toes curling. Phil can’t help the groan that escapes his mouth. Dan seems to be done teasing Phil. He sets a punishing rhythm that hurtles Phil towards completion.

Dan’s hands trail backwards, grabbing handfuls of Phil’s ass. Phil almost wants Dan’s fingers to keep going and press inside. He wants to feel himself open. Wants to feel Dan stretch him. Phil shakes his head, forcing himself back into the present.

Suddenly, Phil finds himself so close to the edge of his orgasm, that he feels a bit of come release into Dan’s mouth. Phil yanks on Dan’s hair, pulling him off his dick.

He heaves out a desperate breath at losing his orgasm so suddenly.

“Sorry, sorry for pulling,” Phil apologises, letting go of Dan’s hair. “Was about to come.”

Dan wipes his mouth and nods, “You could have. That’s kind of the goal.”

With shaking knees, Phil sinks to the ground. He pants harshly. “Didn’t want it to be over so quickly.” Phil doesn’t voice the other thought in his head: that he’s scared when it ends, things get weird. Or when it ends, they’ll never do it again. “Bed?” He asks, almost feeling scared that taking Phil to his bed will be too much for Dan and he’ll say no.

Of course, he does no such thing. He grabs Phil’s hand and guides them to it and squeaks when Phil pushes him down to the mattress and crawls on top of him.

Not one to waste time, Phil pulls Dan’s cock out of the gap in his boxers and jerks it, admiring the rosy color and way that his fist can cover everything but the very tip. Dan’s always had quite a pretty dick.

Phil strips it the exact way Dan likes. Muscle memory has him squeezing his knuckles into the shaft and twisting his wrist on the upstroke. He admires the way that Dan jack-knifes into himself and his neck becomes flushed where Phil has bitten at it.

He squeezes Dan’s balls, massaging them in one hand while the other gives full attention to Dan’s cock. Telling by the way Dan’s thighs are tensing and he’s tossing his head this way and that, Phil knows that this isn’t going to last long.

“Phil, Phil, Phil,” Dan chants. “I’m gonna—”

“It’s ok, Dan. Go ahead.” Phil increases his speed.

Dan reaches out to Phil and claws at any part of him Dan can reach. Even through clothes, Phil feels electric where Dan’s fingernails scrape. “S-scratch me?” Dan stutters, back arching.

“Where?” Phil asks, slowing his hand ever so slightly.

“Balls.” Dan forces out.

Phil holds back a laugh. That’s new. Briefly, Phil wonders who helped Dan learn about that one, but finds that particular train of thought to be rather unpleasant. Phil lets his fingernails dig a little bit into Dan’s testicles and he lightly pulls down. Dan keens and it sends him over the edge almost immediately. Phil works him through it, watching Dan’s release streak up his chest and chin. He spasms, especially as he stops coming but Phil continues to move up and down the length of him. “S-stop,” Dan finally breathes out when it becomes too much.

Phil lets go, briefly wonder if he should offer to go get something to clean Dan off. He doesn’t get to think too long about it, though, because then Dan is springing up and pushing Phil down to the mattress. He goes easily, grimacing when his head comes dangerously close to the side of the bed. Dan attacks his mouth and smears the come that landed on his chin in the process. Dan grabs Phil’s cock and strips it with a bruising pace. Phil finds himself releasing a loud, involuntary sound that he doesn’t even have time to feel embarrassed about.

Dan moves down and adds his mouth to the mix. It only take a few seconds of Dan’s desperate suckling and orgasm-drunk jerking before Phil loses control and his release rips through him. His come hits Dan’s jaw and cheekbone and Phil feels crazed just watching it happen. There’s something primal and animalistic in him that feels satisfied about marking Dan.

He grabs Dan’s shoulders and hauls him up, capturing his mouth in a very messy kiss.

Slowly, they settle down and Dan pillows his head on Phil’s chest. They breathe together.

“Damn,” Dan whispers.

“Yeah,” Phil agrees. He’s trying to bask. Trying to avoid the frenzied thoughts knocking on the gate of his conscious.

Dan says, “Let’s do that again sometime,”and pushes himself up to stare at Phil.

And just like that, all of Phil’s anxious thoughts fizzle out. He smiles up at Dan. “Yes, let’s.”

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to shower because _someone_ decided to give me a facial. Like, jeez, man. Buy me dinner first.”

Phil hides his face in his hands and groans. “Shut up. I’ve bought you dinner.”

“Six years ago doesn’t count, Phil!” Dan calls over his shoulder.

***

When Dan comes back, he asks if Phil wants to stay over, because it just makes logical sense since their rehearsal is so early in the morning and it’s getting late. What doesn’t make logical sense is how they pull each other’s clothes off and go in for a slower round two.

***

The following day, Phil almost feels shy waking up next to Dan. Even though Dan’s naked body pressed up against Phil’s is bloody fantastic, it is also a little terrifying. Especially because they have to wake up today and go to professional rehearsals. What will become of this _thing_ between them? What does Phil want it to become?

“Morning Danny,” Phil murmurs when Dan opens his eyes blearily. In the night, his head found his way on Phil’s chest. He picks it off and sheepishly wipes a bit of drool off Phil’s pec.

“Shit, sorry.” Dan goes to roll off Phil, but Phil tightens his grip around Dan’s shoulders.

Phil pushes a few stray curls off Dan’s head. “S’ok. I’m cuddly, remember?”

Dan nods and tentatively stretches to place a chaste kiss on his lips. Dan is sleep-warm and smells strongly of sex and unwashed man. His lips are desperately chapped and he has a spot on his chin. But Phil has never found him quite so attractive than in that moment.

They could have easily shrugged yesterday off, sprung apart, and pretended nothing ever happened, but then Dan kisses him.

“We have a rehearsal to go to.” Phil murmurs, returning the kiss and running his fingers across Dan’s stubbled jaw.

Dan’s hand creeps down and he takes hold of Phil’s half-hard length. “Hmm, don’t care yet.”

***

Phil has to borrow some of Dan’s clothes in order for them to make their rehearsal on time. As he slips on a pair of Dan’s black Calvin Kleins in front of the full-length mirror, he wonders absently if anyone on their team or anyone they’ll run into will be able to tell that Phil isn’t wearing his own clothes. Maria, maybe. But Phil doesn’t think she’s going to be around today. Tom, definitely. But Phil will cross that bridge when he gets to it.

Dan returns from his shower and comes up behind Phil while Phil is shrugging on the gridded black jumper that Dan gave him. Phil is remembering how Dan wore this to their first planning meeting less than a month ago. He is remembering how Maria had to force Dan and Phil to come to a truce before they sabotaged their opportunity to work with royalty and make a difference to kids. Phil meets Dan’s eyes in the mirror and smiles. How far they’ve come.

“Ready to do this thing, Phil?” Dan pulls down on the back of the grid jumper and smoothes it down. The simplistic domesticity of it melts Phil’s heart.

Phil wants to ask if Dan is talking about the rehearsal or the tour, or maybe the thing between them. But he figures that it’s better to take one step at a time. Go with the flow. See where things lead them.

Phil grabs Dan’s hand and squeezes. “Ready if you are.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you like this verse! I would love to revisit sometime :)
> 
> Please consider [reblogging on tumblr](https://phantasizeit.tumblr.com/post/180291799297/our-flaws-are-aligned) if you enjoyed!


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